


Love Is Kinda Crazy (With a Spooky Little Boy Like You)

by flowerfan



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 13 Days of Halloween, Anxiety, Autumn in New England, Communication, Established Relationship, Fluff, Halloween, Haunted House, Hurt/Comfort, Life Changes, M/M, Past Injury, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-22 13:39:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8287643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: Jack is contemplating what to do after retiring from the NHL, so he and Bitty take some time off to enjoy autumn in New England.  They hadn’t counted on the scary stuff that would happen, both of the Halloween variety and of a more personal nature.A continuous multi-chapter story written for the Check Please 13 Days of Halloween Challenge.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to my beta and wonderful friend, perryavenue, for her support and skills!

[Prompt: Jack o'lantern carving]

Bitty spreads newspaper on the kitchen island, and carefully lays out their carving tools and his second best knife. Jack is going to be home any minute from a Halloween event with the Falconers, and he had promised to bring home two of the best pumpkins for their own carving session.

It’s been a difficult time for Jack lately. Ever since deciding to retire from the Falcs, he’s been at loose ends. He had never fully recovered from a knee injury in his fourth season that kept him off the ice for six weeks, and after limping (literally) through the rest of the year, he had come to the conclusion that he would never recover fully enough to play professional ice hockey again the way he wanted – needed – to be able to play. 

Bitty remembers with a wry grin a conversation over drinks with Bob and Alicia, outside on a warm summer night in the backyard of their Montreal home. Jack had been so worried about the whole discussion, his hands clenching nervously in his lap.

_  
“This doesn’t have to be a bad thing, Jack,” Bob said, glancing quickly at Alicia, who nodded in agreement. “I know you have interests other than hockey, much as you might try to hide it from the world. Now you can spend more time on something else.”_

_Jack looked helplessly at Bitty, who laid his hands over Jack’s and gave them a squeeze. “That’s what I keep telling him,” Bitty said encouragingly._

_“I just don’t know where to start. I’ve been getting calls and offers ever since the news broke. It’s…”_

_“Overwhelming,” Alicia said. “I remember those days. Isn’t Melinda helping you?”_

_Melinda was Jack’s agent-slash-assistant; when Jack came out, he had enlisted her help, wisely realizing that it might be of use to have someone not on the Falcs’ payroll helping him navigate the shark-infested waters of the media. She’s been called in on various occasions ever since._

_“Yeah, but she wants to know what I want to do so she can narrow it down. And I don’t know what to tell her.”_

_“You don’t have to decide right away, son,” Bob said, leaning over to refill Alicia’s glass, which had been drained rather quickly._

_“I know, I told her I’d let her know by the end of the week. But-”_

_“A week? That’s not exactly what I had in mind,” Bob replied, a smirk growing on his face.  
_

After further discussion, Jack and Bitty had decided that he would take six months, more or less, before committing to any other long-term obligations. So Jack had continued to help with Falconers publicity events, sat in on board meetings of various national organizations, been a guest coach for hockey leagues large and small… and still didn’t know what he wanted to do. Lately Bitty had been sending away for brochures for masters’ programs in history and photography and teaching and leaving them lying around their apartment, and while Jack accepted them good-naturedly, he hadn’t expressed any interest in finding out more information.

Bitty doesn’t want to rush him, but he thinks that Jack’s indecision itself is starting to upset him. He really hopes something strikes Jack soon, before he worries himself into a complete inability to make up his mind.

“Honey, I’m home,” Jack calls out, a smile in his voice as he shoves open the front door with his hip. He’s carrying two gigantic pumpkins with ease. His knee doesn’t bother him much most days, at least if he doesn’t push himself too hard. Jack sets the pumpkins down on the kitchen island before accepting a hello kiss from Bitty.

“Lord, those are big boys,” Bitty says, and flushes when Jack winks at him. “Shush, you. You know I meant the pumpkins.”

“Fine.” Jack presses Bitty up against the counter and kisses him again.

Bitty winds his arms around Jack’s neck, happily obliging. Jack seems much cheerier right now than he has of late, and the words pop out of his mouth before he can stop them. “What’s got into you, sweetheart? Weren’t you just carving pumpkins for hours with elementary school kids?”

Jack laughs and steps back. “Yes. But all the way home I kept thinking of you, getting ready to draw your pumpkin face for the year, that little frown crumpling your eyebrows…”

Bitty regards Jack curiously. “You were thinking of me while playing with the kids?”

“After I was done playing with the kids. And yes, I was.” Jack leans in for another kiss, prim this time, and then motions to the counter. “So, which one do you want?”

Bitty considers his options. “This one.” Bitty points to the slightly narrower pumpkin. “I want to do a scary face this time, and this one seems scarier.”

Jack doesn’t question his decision, although Bitty has no idea why that pumpkin seems scarier to him. “Okay.”

They get to work, cutting around the stem on the top of each pumpkin and scooping out the insides. Bitty gathers up the seeds for toasting; he’s going to use them in a pumpkin seed granola recipe he found online last week. 

“How was today’s event?” Bitty asks, as he searches for a better pencil with which to sketch his design.

“Same as last year. Except they had a different story for me to read.”

“Oh?”

“Yup.”

“What story?”

Jack pauses with a paring knife in his hand, and looks at Bitty. “Any chance you know what the origin of ‘Jack O’Lantern’ is?”

“Um, who’s the history nerd here?”

Jack makes as if to flick a pumpkin seed in Bitty’s direction, but continues. “There’s an Irish folktale about a man named Stingy Jack. He invited the devil to have a drink with him, but didn’t want to pay. Things went downhill from there-”

“I can imagine.”

“And so when Stingy Jack eventually died, the devil wouldn’t let him into hell. Instead he sent Jack off into the night with only a burning coal to light his way. Jack put the coal into a carved-out turnip and has been roaming the Earth with it ever since. The Irish took to calling him ‘Jack of the Lantern’ or ‘Jack O’Lantern.’”

“Well, that’s not a very nice story to read to kids.”

Jack harrumphed. “I know, right? But I guess the idea is that people started to carve scary faces into turnips and potatoes and eventually pumpkins, and put them in the window to frighten Stingy Jack and other evil spirits away.”

“So the kids all made scary pumpkins to scare Stingy Jack away?”

“Exactly.”

“Still sounds like a bad story to read to kids.” And not a very nice story to make Jack read, either. He’s no evil spirit, whether he quit the Falconers or not. Bitty can’t imagine that the Falcs publicist meant anything by the choice, but he still doesn’t appreciate it. And he has the feeling Jack doesn’t either.

Bitty looks at the pumpkin in front of him and starts to rub off the pencil lines. “I changed my mind. I’m making a happy face this year.”

Jack doesn’t say anything, and when Bitty looks up at him, his eyes are wet. “What?” Bitty asks. “I can change my mind.”

“I love you, Bits,” Jack says, his voice low.

Bitty puts down his knife, wipes his hands on his apron, and takes Jack in his arms. “Love you too, sweetheart. Always.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a discussion of Jack’s condition after his overdose.

Prompt: Zombies

For the second year in a row, Shitty and Lardo are having a blow-out Halloween party at their apartment in Cambridge. Last year Shitty had declared that regardless of whether he was a grown-ass man with a law degree (and he was), he loved Halloween, and he was going to party like it was Epickegster. He had also decreed that he and Lardo’s costumes should match – at least thematically – Jack and Bitty’s costumes.

Bitty still isn’t sure where this rule had come from, but he chalks it up to Shitty’s continuing need to be reassured that he is still an important person in Jack’s life, so he doesn’t protest. This year’s costume choice doesn’t get revealed to him until the tail end of a rushed phone call with Lardo about whether to invite the entire current Samwell hockey team, even though there are a slew of boys none of them have ever met.

“Oh – I almost forgot. Zombies,” she says.

“Zombies? The new boys aren’t zombies, Lardo. They’ll get used to the speed of college play soon enough.”

“No, that’s not – sorry,” there’s a shuffling noise, and then Lardo’s voice comes clearer through the phone. “I’m trying to do too many things at once, sorry. The gallery’s closing early today, and I’m supposed to have this memo done for the owner about an artist that we’re meeting tomorrow…”

“Lardo? You were saying something about zombies?”

“Oh – yeah – that’s what we’re being for this year. Fun, right?”

Bitty’s willing to dress up as a zombie, although he tends to prefer humorous costumes over scary ones. But when he tells Jack about it that night, he goes pale enough that Bitty thinks they might not even need make up.

“No.” Jack stands up from the couch and unceremoniously leaves the room. 

Bitty just watches him go, momentarily stunned by Jack’s response. It’s not like Jack to be so abrupt, not with Bitty. In fact, he’s having a hard time remembering Jack ever walking out of a room like that. He’s much more likely to fidget, and frown, and wring his hands together, but stay next to Bitty and talk until they work it out. Something is clearly wrong.

Bitty goes to their bedroom and pauses in the doorway. Jack is seated on the far side of the bed, his back to Bitty.

“Honey? Can I come in?”

Jack shrugs his shoulders.

Bitty walks slowly over to Jack and sits down next to him. Jack’s eyes are firmly fixed on his lap, where his hands are – as predicted – wringing together. 

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Jack rubs a hand over his eyes, glances quickly at Bitty and then back down again. “I don’t want us to be zombies.”

“Okay, I get that. And that’s fine, we won’t be.” 

Jack’s posture relaxes slightly, but then tenses again. “Shitty will be mad, won’t he?”

“He’ll live. Or he can come up with another idea.”

“He’ll take it personally.”

“We’ll tell him we still love him. I’ll make him a special pie.”

“You always make him a special pie.”

“Extra-special.” Bitty shifts and touches a hand to Jack’s chest, trying to catch his eyes. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine. I just don’t like zombies.” Jack turns to Bitty, something fearful flickering over his face. “I don’t want to imagine you dead.”

Bitty’s heart leaps into his throat and he searches wildly for a response, but then the phone rings, effectively ending their conversation. Jack gets stuck on the call with the Falconers’ PR director for far longer than seems reasonable for someone who doesn’t have any real obligations to the team anymore; from the way he’s pacing back and forth in the kitchen, he’s not pleased about it either. The Falconers are having a hard time letting go of Jack, and it’s not making his transition away from being a professional hockey player any easier. Hopefully this issue will be dealt with when Jack decides what he’s going to do next. 

Jack finishes up the call and returns to the bedroom, sitting back down next to Bitty.

“Any news to report?”

“They want me to do a holiday event for them in December. A charity thing.”

Bitty watches Jack fiddle with his phone, scrolling to his calendar app and poking at it. “Jack… that’s after the six months.” Jack had given himself six months to decide on what life after the Falcs was going to look like. “Have you decided to stay on with the Falcs in a different role?”

“What? You mean, just show up and sign things for the rest of my life? No.” Jack sounds annoyed, the way he often does these days when his plans (or lack thereof) come up.

“Then you shouldn’t agree to that event, right?” Bitty says softly.

Jack frowns, but then flops onto his back on the bed with a sigh. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.” Bitty lies down next to him, and Jack turns on his side. His eyes are wide as they fix on Bitty. “This is hard.”

“I know.”

“How is it so easy for you, to know what you want to do?”

Bitty laughs. “I’ve had four jobs since graduating from Samwell two and a half years ago. How is that easy?” Bitty had worked at two different bakeries, held a temporary media position with a youth sports organization, and now is working on a proposal for a cooking show on their local public radio station while rebranding his vlog. He doesn’t mind, really. It keeps things interesting.

“When you don’t like something, or it doesn’t work out, you just try something else,” Jack says. “How do you know you’ll like it any better?”

“I don’t. But if I don’t give it a try, I’ll never know.”

Jack considers this, then pulls Bitty towards him, snuggling his face up against his hair. “You’re so brave,” he mutters, and Bitty starts pressing kisses up his neck and down his jaw. 

“Look who’s talking,” Bitty coos, sliding a hand around Jack’s head to hold him close. His heart goes out to Jack. Big decisions have always been difficult for him, and Jack has clearly put the question of what to do next into the life-changing moment category, whether it should be or not. Maybe they need to enlist Ransom’s help, and draw up some Excel spreadsheets. But not right now. Bitty rubs his nose against Jack’s, and places a soft kiss on his lips. “My brave boyfriend. Let’s forget about jobs for a little while, honey.”

Jack flips them over and gives Bitty a wicked look, then sits up on his knees, running his hands down Bitty’s chest and resting them on his hips. “Maybe we’ll just focus on one particular kind of job, eh?” He waggles his eyebrows and strokes a finger on top of Bitty’s shorts, under which a certain body part is rapidly coming to attention.

“You, Mr. Zimmermann, are terrible,” Bitty says, his breath coming faster as Jack slides him out of his shorts and gets to work. Of course, Jack is the opposite of terrible at this, as he is with anything he sets his mind to, and soon Bitty is gasping and clutching at Jack’s shoulders as he comes.

Jack gathers him up and holds him tight, still fully dressed and apparently unconcerned with the mess. Bitty catches his breath and gazes into Jack’s eyes, trying to get his bearings. This evening has taken some unexpected turns.

“Can I return the favor, sweetheart?” Bitty finally asks, when Jack shows no signs of letting him go.

“No need,” Jack says, smoothing the hair away from Bitty’s forehead. “Just stay here with me.”

“As if I’d be anywhere else,” Bitty replies, pulling his shorts and briefs off from where they had tangled around his legs. “But maybe we can get ready for bed?” He tugs at the collar of Jack’s button-down shirt, the tie barely loosened around his neck.

Jack grimaces. “I got distracted.”

“I know.” They slide out of bed, take turns in the bathroom, and return a few minutes later, Bitty considerably less sticky and clad in a clean pair of briefs. Jack’s got on his old Samwell t-shirt and boxers, and Bitty still can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, when they are curled up together again, warm and safe under their blankets. 

Jack lets out a long breath. “You’re sure we don’t have to be zombies, right?”

Bitty can’t believe Jack is still worried about this. “No. No zombies.” He snuggles harder against Jack’s chest, and can feel his heart pounding. “Jack? Is there something in particular about zombies that is upsetting you?”

Jack huffs into Bitty’s hair. “No. No… it’s stupid.”

“It might make you feel better to tell me.”

A pause. “It’s not really about zombies.”

“Okay…” Bitty shifts, raising himself up on an elbow so he can see his boyfriend’s face. There’s enough light from the street coming in the window that Jack’s worried expression is clearly visible. “What’s it about, then?”

Jack purses his lips and shakes his head. “Me.”

Bitty lays his palm on Jack’s chest and waits. Sometimes Jack knows exactly what he wants to say, the sweetest things spilling out of him like summer rain. Other times it’s more like pulling teeth. But Bitty isn’t in any rush.

“After my overdose, sometimes when I was in the hospital, half-asleep, I could feel my mom… hovering over me, her face close to mine. Poking me until I moved.”

Bitty sucks in a breath, his eyes catching with Jack’s. 

“She was checking to make sure I was alive. Not that I was in any danger of dying at that point, but… I overheard the nurses talking, once. They said she was there almost as soon as the ambulance brought me in, she saw me when I was unresponsive, just lying there on the gurney. She asked them… she thought I was dead.”

“Oh, honey…” Bitty is clutching Jack’s shoulder, tears filling his eyes. “That’s awful. Your poor mom.”

Jack nods, and pulls Bitty down against him, his arms coming hard around Bitty’s back. “I had a dream once,” he stutters out, “just like that, but it – it was you, on the gurney, not moving – and I tried to wake you, and you wouldn’t wake up, and-”

“Shh, love, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Bitty says. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Bits. I don’t want to even think about it.” Jack is shaking in Bitty’s arms, and Bitty’s about ready to boycott Halloween altogether.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. Love you so much, honey. It’s okay.” 

They stay wrapped up in each other until Jack’s trembling quiets and Bitty’s hand falls asleep under Jack’s head. Bitty sits up a little, shaking the feeling back into his arm, while Jack looks at him shyly.

“Thank you for telling me, sweetheart.” Bitty settles back down against Jack’s chest. “I get it now. No playing dead for us. Not even on Halloween.”

Jack pulls the blanket over them, tucking it around Bitty. “Will you ask Lardo if we can choose different costumes?”

“Sure.” Bitty presses a kiss to Jack’s lips, and Jack returns it, lazily licking into his mouth. Bitty interrupts the kiss with a yawn, and they both giggle as Bitty snuggles against Jack, tucking his head in the space between Jack’s neck and shoulder. “Anything you’d like to be?”

There’s a long enough pause that Bitty would have thought Jack had fallen asleep, except for his thumb still tracing circles on Bitty’s hip.

“Bunnies.”


	3. Chapter 3

(Prompt: Costume malfunctions)

*****

Shitty and Lardo’s place in Cambridge is remarkably similar to the apartment Shitty had during law school. Sure, it’s a little bit closer to the Porter Square MBTA stop, so he doesn’t have to walk so far to catch the T and commute to work, but it has the same slightly crooked porch, the same empty beer cans in the living room, and the same junk food in the kitchen. At least today the junk food has a theme.

Bitty, of course, has done his part by baking a plethora of Halloween treats. He and Jack have been baking back in Providence for days, doing their best not to eat too many of the sugary snacks before the day of the party. On the drive up to Boston, however, Jack had persuaded Bitty to let him sample the caramel corn, and one thing led to another until almost every plastic container and foil wrapped package had been opened at the edge to allow them to do a final taste test.

If there is one thing Bitty is enjoying about post-NHL Jack, it is his boyfriend’s newfound willingness to eat more than one bite of Bitty’s creations. Because, face it, his cooking deserves a dedicated audience.

High on marshmallow ghosts and peanut butter goblins, they arrive at Shitty and Lardo’s place in the late afternoon. They park around the corner, grateful to have found a spot on the street at all, and lug their bags and backpacks down the street. Shitty is on the porch, and he lets out a whoop when he sees them.

“Bros! Finally!” He jumps down off a stepladder and embraces them both, Bitty squirming to avoid damage to the baked goods. “Have I ever told you how much I love you beautiful men? How much I fucking need you?”

Jack starts to answer Shitty earnestly, telling him how much he needs Shitty, too, when Shitty interrupts.

“In particular, I need you, taller bro, to hang this.” He hands Jack a string of lights with little purple plastic bats dangling from it. “Start from that corner, and go all along the porch edge.”

“Nice to see you too,” Bitty mumbles, shaking his head at how Jack immediately goes along with Shitty’s plan. “I’ll just bring this all inside. Y’all don’t mind me.”

Shitty shoots Bitty a grin, and slaps him on the butt. “Lardo’s got a surprise for you, Bits. Tonight is going to be ‘swawesome!”

Bitty drags their bags inside and finds Lardo in the kitchen. She’s leaning back against the tiny dining table, scrolling through something on her phone. If Shitty is working at warp speed to get ready for tonight’s event, Lardo is at… well… she’s meandering slowly down a leaf-strewn country lane.

“Hey, Bitty,” she says, her eyes dragging slowly up from the page to meet his. “Didja bring food? You can put it on the counter.” She waits until Bitty has set down his packages, and then envelops him in a tight hug. Lardo’s never been much for words, but her support has always meant the world to Bitty. He’s not sure how he would have made it through those last years at the Haus without her to confide in. Sure, Rans and Holster and the rest of the boys who knew about him and Jack were great, but Lardo was something special.

He holds her tight, rocks her back and forth a little, and then steps back. “How’s it going?”

She smiles softly. “It’s good.”

“All moved in?”

Lardo got her own place when she graduated from Samwell, despite the fact that she and Shitty had been dating for years. She had claimed she wanted to be in Boston proper, closer to the gallery she worked at and the museums where she was still taking courses, but Bitty knew that wasn’t the whole story. Finally this summer (after Shitty asked her for a third time, this time without all the flowers and gimmicks he had employed in the past) she agreed to move in, and Bitty thinks he has never seen her so quietly, calmly, completely at ease. 

Lardo nods. “We set up the third bedroom as my studio. Wanna see?”

They walk down the hall, Lardo leading them past the master bedroom she and Shitty share, and the guest bedroom that has been dubbed “Jack and Bitty’s secret hideaway” in tribute to the old days when they used to spend free weekends at Shitty’s apartment, safe in the knowledge that even the most dedicated of paparazzi hadn’t yet discovered how much time they spent there.

“Why aren’t you using our bedroom?” Bitty asks. “It’s bigger, and lord knows we aren’t here very often, and-”

Bitty stops talking as Lardo opens the door to her studio. The afternoon light is streaming through the floor to ceiling glass windows along the back wall, giving the whole room a golden glow. There are easels and canvases everywhere, built-in shelves to hold paints and brushes, and a counter with a sink and what looks to be a small dishwasher. 

“Lards? Those windows were not here last time I visited…”

She turns to Bitty with a smug look on her face. “True.”

“I guess there’s something to be said for family money,” Bitty says lightly, and Lardo knocks him on the shoulder.

“Like you can talk,” she replies. They’ve often commiserated about the oh-so-difficult position they are each in, fortunate enough to have to debate and decide exactly how much money they are willing to accept from their far more wealthy significant others. 

“In any case, it’s beautiful, Lardo,” Bitty says appreciatively, looking over the carefully organized paints and tools, and then pausing to gaze out the windows. There are a few trees in the narrow backyard, orange and yellow leaves still clinging to the branches. Bitty knows soon the leaves will fall and the view out the windows will just be of the backs of the houses around them, but for now, it feels private, and altogether lovely.

He turns back to her, and she smiles again. “I know, right?”

They wander out of the studio, and Bitty returns to the kitchen to start organizing everything. He has some Halloween-themed platters that he brought along, but he’s just going to use Lardo’s plates for other things. The cookies – although fantastic, pumpkin spice with maple frosting – don’t need any special treatment, while the devil’s food cake with graham cracker gravestones gets a black tray with sugar-spun spiderweb trim.

Jack and Shitty join him a few minutes later, bringing a burst of cool air with them. Jack bends to kiss Bitty sweetly, his cool lips lingering. “Been at the caramel corn again, eh?”

“No.” Bitty blushes as he slides the bucket of caramel corn away from the edge of the counter. “I mean, maybe.”

“Did Lards give you your present yet? Jack, you are going to lose it when you see this.”

“Ooops.” Lardo leaves the room and is back in a minute with a bright orange gift bag, which she hands over ceremoniously to Bitty.

Bitty sighs. “Shitty Knight, what have you done now?”

“Nothing you wouldn’t do,” he says with a grin. 

Lardo just shrugs. “Open it, Bits.”

Jack peers over his shoulder as Bitty digs through the tissue paper. He pulls out something silver and glittering, which soon reveals it itself to be a bunny costume. 

“It’s exactly like the one you wore at Samwell!” Shitty cheers. “Exactly like it! Lardo kept the picture, we compared it to every one we could find online. It’s the same one!”

Bitty holds it up to himself and laughs. “It can’t be the same one. This thing is sparkly. Mine wasn’t sparkly.”

“And it’s so tiny,” Jack says under his breath, a hand reaching out to touch it.

“It’s like one of your old figure skating outfits, bro. Except for Halloween!” Shitty is clearly very proud of himself. Bitty and Jack had meant to get matching bunny suits, but Jack had found a onesie in dark brown that he loved, and Bitty had wanted one in white, so they didn’t really match anyway. And from the look in Jack’s eyes, he isn’t going to mind if Bitty substitutes this stretchy, sparkly outfit for a baggy onesie.

“Fine – I’ll be a puck bunny again,” Bitty says. He can’t think of any reason why not.

Many hours later, the reasons are endless.

Shitty is cavorting around the house with a beer in one hand and his sunglasses in the other – he’s a beach bunny, wearing just flowered swim trunks and bunny ears. Lardo is elegantly sexy in a Jessica Rabbit costume, lounging at the edges of the action until challenged, when she mildly agrees to participate in the drinking game of choice and then proceeds to win without breaking a sweat (or getting violently ill off the side of the porch, like poor Chowder – you’d think he would have learned by now).

Bitty’s costume, while entertaining enough at first, does seem to be almost exactly the same as the one he wore back at Samwell in one important respect – it’s freakin’ small. While Bitty hasn’t grown that much since his junior year, he has matured a little bit, and apparently that plus the fact that this costume hasn’t been worn in a half-dozen private fashion shows back in his and Jack’s bedroom means that it is quite a bit more snug than his old puck bunny outfit. Especially around his ass, and his upper thighs.

But Jack brings him another glass of tub juice (again, Shitty is all about tradition) and he gets caught up in a conversation with Tater about how Halloween is celebrated in Russia, and sometime between Tater’s attempt to explain how the Orthodox church wants to ban it and how he and his friends always went out dancing anyway, he winds up dancing with Tater.

It’s not the first time he’s been the object of Tater’s completely platonic affection. Ever since Jack’s rookie year with the Falcs, the big Russian has taken a liking to Bitty. And in spite of his giant sized build, he’s quite a good dancer – far more willing to make a fool of himself than Jack. It’s become a bit of a thing at parties, really, Tater dancing with Bitty while Jack watches from his usual spot holding up the wall.

Tonight is no different. Bitty sees Jack watching as Bitty dips and sways to the music, and can’t help but flash him a smile. Bitty is just drunk enough that it has occurred to him that Jack looks like a life-sized version of Señor Bun, and just sober enough not to tell Jack about his discovery. At least, not until they are alone. And even then, he’s not sure his boyfriend will like being compared to Bitty’s well-worn, small stuffed animal.

There’s a look on Jack’s face, though, that makes Bitty think that he isn’t thinking childish thoughts. In fact, were Señor Bun with them right now, Bitty would be turning his cute little face to the wall, or perhaps propping him up in a window.

Bitty decides to go for it, swinging his hips and waving his hands above his head. Tater laughs at him, takes one of his hands and spins him, then pulls him close. Bitty’s long bunny ears whip around, and he’s laughing too.

Suddenly Jack is cutting in, taking Tater’s place and giving Bitty a wink. Bitty loops his hands around the back of Jack’s neck, and lets Jack pull him close with a hand on his lower back. 

“You must be hot,” Bitty says, tugging the hood off Jack’s head so he can push his hair back from his forehead.

“Not as hot as you,” Jack says. It’s cheesy as hell, but Jack is running his eyes up and down Bitty’s body in a way that means he isn’t joking. Bitty realizes that the only time Jack has seen him face to face in this getup has been as a prelude to sexytimes, and he wonders if maybe Jack is experiencing some kind of Pavlovian response.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Jack whispers into Bitty’s ear, as Bitty realizes he’s been babbling out whatever thoughts come to mind. “You’re just really hot.”

Bitty struggles to figure out if he actually said that part about Señor Bun out loud.

“Yup,” Jack says. “But we can talk about that later.” Jack pulls Bitty closer, and leans down to kiss his jaw, and then his neck, nudging aside the hood of his suit. 

Bitty shakes his head and whaps Jack with his bunny ears. “Hey, none of that right now, you,” he chastises. Not that anyone is paying them any attention – in fact, many of the guests seem to be taking advantage of the low lighting and loud music to engage in similar activities. In any case, Jack isn’t stopping. His hands slide down over Bitty’s ass, his fingers touching the skin below the sinfully short legs of the outfit, and suddenly Bitty’s costume is even tighter. Obscenely tight, as a matter of fact.

“Um, Jack?”

“Yes?” Jack leans back just enough to see Bitty’s face, and Bitty’s hips move forward, enough to acquaint Jack with the problem at hand. “Oh.” Jack looks more amused than concerned.

Bitty’s first reaction is to chide him – he’s not really interested in having the entire party see him popping out of his puck bunny costume – but on the other hand…

He pulls Jack’s head down so he can whisper in his ear. “This is your fault, Mr. Zimmermann. I suggest you do something about it.”

Jack’s eyes go wide, and then he flips Bitty over his shoulder and heads to the guest bedroom.

Bitty squeals, knowing his ass is now on display for all to see (the suit barely covers it, and in this position…) but thankfully Jack moves quickly, and soon he is flat on his back on the bed, a sweaty and clearly eager Jack Zimmermann gazing at him with unabashed lust.

“Lock the door and get over here,” Bitty commands, and Jack does just that. He’s stripping off his fleece costume, and then his sweaty undershirt comes off, leaving him just in his boxers before Bitty can even blink.

Bitty sits up to take off his bunny suit, and manages to get his arms out, but then the whole mess comes to a grinding halt – and not the good kind of grinding. Bitty wiggles, and squirms, and looks up to find Jack frowning at him.

“You’re stuck, aren’t you?”

“I’m not stuck.” Bitty slides off the bed and tries to roll the garment down over his hips. But he’s damp with sweat, and the stupid thing is too tight, and it won’t go over his ass, not to mention his more sensitive parts.

“Hang on. I’ll get Lardo.” Jack, true to form, wants to solve this problem immediately. But Bitty has no intention of letting anyone else see him like this.

“What? No – are you kidding-”

“For a scissors. I meant I’ll ask her for a scissors.”

“That seems extreme,” Bitty mutters, but he sits down on the bed and waits. It feels like the leg holes are cutting off the circulation to his thighs. 

Jack is back remarkably quickly, brandishing a gigantic set of shears which has Bitty scrambling up and over the bed to get away. “No no no, you can’t use those. No way.”

“Bits.” Jack sits down on the bed, putting down the scissors on the nightstand. “Come here.” The lust is long gone from Jack’s eyes. When Bitty approaches, Jack wraps his arms around Bitty and gives him a gentle hug. He sits back, taking one of Bitty’s hands in his. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I asked Lardo for her sharpest pair, and she gave me these. She says she only uses these for fabric. It’s safer this way, I promise.”

Bitty frowns, but he lays down on the bed, stretching his legs out straight. Jack carefully slides the tip of the scissors under the edge of the fabric, and slowly cuts a line up towards Bitty’s hip. As the pressure is released, Bitty lets out a long sigh, and smiles up at Jack as he repeats the process on Bitty’s other side.

When Jack puts the scissors down Bitty peels the remains of his costume off his body, frowning at the dark red lines the edges of his costume have pressed into his thighs. 

“Looks like that hurts, Bits,” Jack says, his eyes full of concern as he touches a fingertip to Bitty’s leg. “You want your pajamas?”

In other words, Bitty thinks, the mood has been ruined. He’s sitting here naked in front of his ridiculously hot boyfriend, having worked him into a frenzy just a few minutes ago, and now Jack wants to tuck him into bed. 

“I don’t know,” Bitty says, running a hand through Jack’s hair and then, slowly, down his chest. “We went to all that trouble to take my clothes off. Why just put them back on again?”

Jack bursts into a sunny grin, and tackles Bitty to the bed. “You are remarkable, Eric Bittle,” he says in a low voice, before planting a firm kiss to Bitty’s lips. He deepens the kiss, sliding a hand around to the back of Bitty’s head to hold him tight, and then rolling them both to their sides. 

Bitty loves that Jack is so much bigger than he is, but right now he doesn’t need to feel squashed, and he appreciates that even in the middle of sex, Jack is looking out for him. “Love you, sweetheart,” Bitty says, reaching to slide his hand under Jack’s boxers. He wraps his fingers around Jack’s length, earning a gasp from Jack, who is soon breathing fast and heavy against Bitty’s shoulder.

Jack slows Bitty for a moment so he can tug his boxers off, and then grabs him by the ass and pulls him closer. Bitty reaches over him and fumbles in the drawer of the nightstand for the lube – it may not be their house, but it’s Shitty’s, and it’s well stocked. Soon there’s lube everywhere, and they are thrusting against each other, hands helping and getting in the way until they are both going over the edge, panting and shaking and generally very, very happy.

Jack cleans them off with his discarded boxers, and Bitty promises himself he’ll throw the sheets in the wash in the morning. The noise of the party outside their door continues, the music loud and pulsing, but Bitty doesn’t care. He couldn’t possibly be happier than he is now.

Jack pulls the blanket over them both, spooning up behind Bitty and holding him in his arms. Bitty is just about to fall asleep when he hears Jack whisper, a hint of pride in his voice. “For the record, I’m pretty sure Señor Bun can’t make you feel this good.”

Bitty giggles into Jack’s arm. “No, mister, you’re the only one.”


	4. Chapter 4

Prompt: A ghost story.

It’s almost eleven o’clock at night when Bitty hears Jack turning his key in the door of their apartment. Bitty sits up from where he has been dozing on the couch, looking at old episodes of 30 Rock on his computer until his eyes glazed over. He has been picking up a few extra shifts at the bakery down the block – it’s a great way to procrastinate working on his proposal for the radio station - and getting up at dawn does not match well with waiting up for Jack to get home.

“Hey, Bits. Sorry I’m so late.”

Bitty leans up to accept a kiss from Jack. “S’okay. There’s lasagna in the fridge, if you want some. Made with turkey sausage, the good kind from the organic place.”

Jack’s eyes light up, and he makes a beeline for the kitchen.

Bitty follows him, yawning. “Don’t they feed you at these things?” Jack has been out doing a publicity event for the Falcs – again.

“You know how it is. I’m too busy talking to people to eat.” Jack takes the plate out of the refrigerator and smiles when he sees the post-it note on it from Bitty. “Love you too, Bits.”

Bitty takes the plate from him and puts it in the microwave to warm up, then pours them each a glass of water. Jack leans on the kitchen island, loosening his tie and gazing at Bitty.

“What? Is my hair that bad?” Bitty runs his fingers through his hair, messy from sleeping on the couch.

“No. You look perfect.” Jack smiles at him, a little sad. “I just feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Bitty pushes down the “well, who’s fault is that” comment that springs to his throat. It’s late, and it’s probably not the best time for this conversation. “I know. I miss you, too.” He grabs Jack’s tie and pulls him down for a short kiss, cut off when the microwave dings.

Jack sits down at the island and digs into the lasagna, eating it so fast Bitty cuts another piece from the pan in the refrigerator and starts heating it up without Jack having to ask.

“Did you have lunch, honey?”

“Hm?” Jack blinks at him, thinking. “No. I guess not. George wanted me to sit on a meeting with some potential marketing partners and they brought lunch in but…”

“But you were too busy talking to eat.”

“Yeah.” 

Jack looks miserable, and Bitty can’t hold it in anymore, despite the fact that it’s late. Because these days it seems like the Falcs are taking over Jack’s life, and that isn’t what is supposed to be happening. Unless…

“Jack? Did you decide to keep going with the Falcs, do media or publicity for them or something?”

“What? No – why would you think that?”

Bitty frowns at Jack, and gives him a minute to think it through. “Because that’s all you’ve been doing lately?”

Jack sighs. “I have a hard time saying ‘no’ to them.”

“I know, babe. Maybe it’s a sign that it’s really what you want to do?”

Jack shakes his head emphatically. “No, it’s not. It’s really not. I’m just a celebrity in this role – I’m only useful because people know who I am. I need to use my brain. This stuff – it’s just boring.”

Bitty has an idea, and gets his laptop from where he left it on the floor by the couch. “Okay.” He opens it up, finds the document he wants, and starts typing. 

“What’s that?” Jack asks, peering over to see what Bitty is doing.

“Ransom made you an Excel sheet.”

“For what?”

“For your decision.” Bitty turns the computer so Jack can see it. Across the top it is titled “What Is Jack Going To Do With His Life Now That He Isn’t An NHL Star Any More?”

“Maybe not the best way to put it,” Bitty starts apologetically, but Jack interrupts him, scrolling down the page.

“No, it’s perfect.”

Bitty takes the laptop back and types in “use my brain,” “not just a celebrity,” and “not boring” under the column “Attributes of my next job.” 

“See? I think it’s a good start.”

Jack nods. “I think you’re right. And you know what else?”

“What?” 

Jack has an odd look on his face, some mixture of relief and anticipation. “I’m texting George right now and telling her I’m done working for the Falcs, at least for the next few weeks. We’re taking Shitty up on his offer.”

“Really?” Shitty had suggested that Bitty and Jack spend some time at his parents’ house in New Hampshire. “You mean it? For how long?”

Jack shrugged, his smile growing with Bitty’s excitement. “I dunno. But I’m obviously going to need some quality time with this spreadsheet. Look at all those columns!” There’s a lightness to Jack’s voice that Bitty hasn’t heard in a while. “How long can you get away?”

“Mr. Zimmermann, you know my schedule isn’t what’s keeping us from taking a vacation. It’s too late to call out sick at the bakery for tomorrow morning, but after my shift I’ll tell them I’m out of commission for a while. They’ll survive without me.”

Jack grinned. “As long as I don’t have to.”

“Never.”

*****  
Three days later, they’re heading up to New Hampshire, after a stop to have lunch with Shitty in Boston and pick up the key to his parents’ house. Bitty wants to take more time walking around the North End before they leave – the bakeries are amazing, although he hardly had room for dessert given all the pizza and garlic bread he had consumed – but they want to keep moving before the traffic gets too bad.

Bitty puts on a playlist and sits back in his seat, content to let Jack drive. A Beyoncé song from a few years back comes on, and Bitty watches, amused, as Jack mouths the words.

“You can go ahead and sing it, you know,” he teases.

Jack blushes and shakes his head. “You know I’m a terrible singer.”

“Do what you love, sweetheart.”

“I love you, and as someone who loves you, I refuse to inflict my singing voice upon you.” Jack grins over at Bitty. “But you can go ahead.”

The drive passes quickly, and soon they are exiting off 93 North, onto the much smaller Route 104.

“The GPS says about half an hour more,” Bitty says. “Want to stop for dinner first? Shitty told me there are some good restaurants in one of the towns we’re going to drive through.”

Bitty scrolls through the reviews, texts Shitty a few times, and they finally settle on a casual place in Meredith, on the shore of Lake Winnipesaukee. The outdoor dining section is closed for the season, but Shitty claims they have the best corn fritters he’s ever had, and Bitty is aching to try them.

They decide to share the corn fritters and a Caesar salad, and Bitty takes a minute to send a photo back to Shitty with a picture of what he’s missing. Then Bitty gets a steamed lobster, which baffles him completely until Jack takes the nutcracker out of his hand and breaks it apart for him.

“How can you never have had lobster before?” Jack says, amused, as he eats his fish tacos. Which do not require the eater to break, shell, or argue with them.

“I’ve had lobster before. But not like this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?

Bitty smirks. Jack is just as clueless as he is, just about different things.

“I forgot that when you order lobster up here, you get the whole thing. In Georgia, it’s usually rock lobster, and you just get a tail.”

“That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

Bitty holds up one of his lobster’s claws and poked it towards Jack. “Yeah, but it’s a lot easier to eat.”

“Bet it doesn’t taste as good.”

“Since when are you such a lobster expert?”

Jack grins. “I’m a man of many mysteries.”

Bitty laughs. “Sure you are, sweetheart.”

They linger over their meals, the sun setting over the lake casting shadows on their table. Bitty’s been so excited about this trip, he hardly had a minute to realize it was really happening. They’ve taken vacations before, but usually to visit family. Even when they went somewhere different, it was because Jack’s parents had invited them along. This time, it’s just the two of them. 

The fact that Jack needs to do some serious thinking during their time away does nothing to dampen Bitty’s enthusiasm. If anything, it makes him even happier. As much as this decision has been weighing on Jack, Bitty knows he’ll feel better as soon as he really starts working the problem. From the moment Jack laid eyes on Ransom’s spreadsheet, Bitty had a good feeling about things. And what better place to do some deep thinking than Shitty’s parents’ vacation home, which, if Shitty is right (and he often is), is going to be quite a nice place to spend some time.

Unfortunately they have such a good time at dinner that by the time they leave, it’s full dark. And of course in order to actually reach their destination, they need to drive down a series of very narrow, very bumpy, completely unlit roads.

“Why do I feel like we’re not even on a road anymore,” Bitty mumbles, using his phone to illuminate the handwritten instructions Shitty had given them, as Jack slowly inches the car forward through a particularly narrow spot.

“This area’s probably private,” Jack says, his brow furrowed in concentration. “The roads aren’t maintained by the town, and they are only used by the residents.”

“Paths of dirt aren’t roads.”

Jack stops the car and looks over at Bitty. “Did Shits say take a right or a left after the turn with the giant rock?”

“A left,” Bitty says. “But I’m still not sure that was the right giant rock.”

“It was a big rock, on a corner – what else could he have meant?”

“It wasn’t that big. And there was another one on the next corner.”

Jack’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “You didn’t say that.”

“Well, you seemed pretty confident about your decision.”

There’s a long moment of silence in the car, and then Jack sighs, the tension going out of him. “I’m sorry. I should have looked at the map.”

Bitty gives Jack’s shoulder a squeeze. “It wouldn’t have helped, honey. These roads aren’t on our map. Just keep going, and we’ll figure it out. I’m sorry I didn’t mention the extra rock.”

Jack laughs. “Why do I have the feeling there’s more than one extra rock on this path?”

“See!” Bitty exclaims. “It’s not a road, it’s a path. A rock-filled, undersized, devious path.”

They turn left at the next opportunity, and the road seems to get even narrower. Bitty cringes every time a branch scrapes along the side of the car; luckily Jack isn’t the kind of person to lose it over a damaged paint job, because he has a feeling that some of those branches are leaving permanent marks. 

They pass several more turn offs, each with a wooden sign attached to a tree. They strain to read them, looking for number thirty-six. It’s nearly a mile further than Bitty thought it would be, but at last, they see the sign, and coax the car around the bend.

Finally they get to the end of the long driveway. There’s a house there, mostly hidden by trees, but Bitty can see the front door off to the side. Jack turns the car off, and Bitty lets out a long sigh.

“We made it.” 

Jack looks over at Bitty, then grabs his hand and brings it to his mouth for a kiss. “We did. I’m sorry I got so grumpy.”

“Me too. Let’s go check it out.”

They get out of the car, groaning and stretching their legs. It’s cold out, significantly colder than when they had dinner in Meredith, and Bitty is glad he packed a fleece, although it isn’t doing him much good inside his suitcase.

Bitty is rummaging through his backpack for the keys when Jack yells over to him.

“It’s open, Bits. Come on in.”

Bitty nearly bumps into Jack in the dark hallway, as they both search for a light switch. Jack finds it first, and flips it on.

The sight that greets them is not entirely what Bitty had expected. It’s a small cabin, with a tiny kitchen. There’s a small living area which holds a threadbare loveseat and two dining chairs arranged around a crooked coffee table that looks like a kid built it in a woodworking class. Jack’s got his best poker face on as he puts their bags down and glances back at Bitty, waiting to see his reaction.

“Very cozy,” Bitty says carefully. He walks between the loveseat and the chairs to the window, pushing aside the curtains, but it’s too dark to see anything outside. “Bet there’s a great view of the lake.”

“Do you think the bedrooms are upstairs?”

Bitty follows Jack up the narrow stairway. He turns on the flashlight on his phone, since apparently whoever designed this place didn’t care much about conveniently placed light switches.

There’s a hallway with three doors along its left side. The first room is a bathroom which Bitty thinks won’t even be big enough for Jack to brush his teeth in, let alone shower. The next room has a double bed and a scraped up dresser. They back out of it and are just about to open the remaining door (please be the master bedroom, Bitty thinks) when they hear a strange screeching sound.

“What the hell was that?” Bitty says, grabbing on to the back of Jack’s arm.

“An owl, probably,” Jack says, but with less confidence than Bitty would prefer. Jack takes another step towards the last room and the floor squeaks, making them both jump again, and then laugh.

“I think we really need some sleep,” Bitty says lightly.

“Agreed.” They shuffle into the last room, and Bitty’s jaw falls open as he sees the bunk beds. There’s barely enough room for the two of them to stand and stare. He’s not even sure what to say, but Jack says it for him.

“I can’t believe this is the Knights’ vacation home.”

“Maybe they didn’t always have so much money?” Bitty volunteers. “Or, it’s some kind of frugal New England thing?”

Jack huffs. “I’ve been to their house on the Cape. They never struck me as frugal.”

Bitty goes back out into the hallway, finally finding a light switch and turning it on. A lone light bulb hanging from a wire over his head flickers to life.

“Well, let’s get the groceries unpacked and go to bed,” Jack says. “We’ve got all of the White Mountains to explore, it doesn’t really matter what the house is like.”

Back downstairs, Jack brings in the cooler and they put the perishables away.

“Did you get the bag with my pie pans out of the car?” Bitty asks, adding another pound of butter to his mental shopping list. He’s glad he didn’t bring any more groceries, they wouldn’t have fit in the tiny refrigerator.

“I brought everything in. Isn’t it here?”

They both spin in a circle, but they have unpacked everything except for their suitcases.

“I’ll check again,” Jack says, patting Bitty on the shoulder as he goes out to the car. But when he returns a moment later, he shakes his head sadly.

“There’s no way I forgot that bag,” Bitty says, looking around the small area again.

“Don’t worry, Bits, we’ll find you a Williams Sonoma tomorrow. Or – wait-“ Jack opens a creaky cabinet door and fishes around, then holds a dish out to Bitty. “You can use this.”

Bitty glances at the dish in Jack’s hands and then does a double take. It’s a tin pie pan with a starburst pattern on the bottom. He takes it from Jack and turns it over, astonished. “My moo-maw has one just like this,” he says. “Her mother got it as a wedding present.”

“What are the odds,” Jack says.

When Bitty looks up at him, however, Jack isn’t looking at the pie pan. He’s staring back towards the door, a strange expression on his face.

“Jack? What’s wrong?”

Jack rubs his hands along his arms, and focuses back on Bitty. “Nothing. Just… tired, I think.”

“And cold.” Bitty takes Jack’s hands and chafes them with his own. “Didn’t Shitty say the heat would be on?”

“I’m trying pretty hard right now not to list all the things that Shitty said about this place.”

Because none of them had turned out to be true, Bitty thinks. He lets go of Jack’s hands and shoots off a text to Shitty, limiting his opening line to “we’ve got some questions” – but of course, there’s no reception. He shows the screen to Jack, who just sighs again, and then picks up his suitcase. “Let’s go to bed. It’ll all seem brighter in the morning.”

Unfortunately, sleep doesn’t come easily for either of them. There’s barely enough room for them both to stretch out in the double bed. The sheets are scratchy, the blanket smells musty, and they’re both shivering, even curled up together. Finally Bitty gets out of bed and digs through their suitcases to find them both sweatshirts. Jack hits Bitty in the face with an elbow as he pulls his on, and it’s all Bitty can do not to cry right then and there. This is not turning out to be the vacation he had hoped for.

“We can go to a hotel,” Jack says, after he has apologized somewhere in the range of a thousand times, and carefully placed a make-it-better kiss on Bitty’s nose. “We can leave right now. I’m sure there’s a good hotel somewhere nearby, or at least a B&B…”

“I don’t think we’d make it out of here in the dark. I don’t wanna get lost.”

“But…” Jack tries so hard to fix things, Bitty thinks. But he doesn’t think this can be fixed, at least not tonight.

“No, this isn’t ideal, but it’s better than sleeping in the car. Lie down and close your eyes.”

Jack complies, and Bitty snuggles up almost entirely on top of him, focusing on the familiar smell of his boyfriend and his nice, clean sweatshirt, and not the musty blanket. He thinks he’s finally asleep when there’s another screech, louder even than last time, and he feels Jack jolt under him.

“It’s okay, honey, it’s just that darn owl again,” Bitty says, trying to soothe him. Jack doesn’t always wake up well when startled.

“It’s not an owl,” Jack mutters.

“You said it was, honey, remember?”

“Was just trying to make you feel better.”

There’s another ear-spitting screech, and Bitty starts to shiver, despite his sweatshirt and the fact that he is plastered as close to Jack as humanly possible. He doesn’t like this at all. “What should we do?”

“Go to sleep. I locked the door. Whatever it is, it can’t come in.”

“Whatever it is? What do you mean?” Bitty says, his voice going high.

“Coyote, maybe? Red fox?” Jack shifts, and wraps his arms tighter around Bitty. “They’re not interested in us, and they don’t have thumbs, anyway, they can’t get inside the house. Nothing’s going to hurt us. We’ll get out of here at first light, I promise. Try to sleep.”

Bitty does eventually doze off, awakened every so often by another screech. At one point Jack turns over and almost knocks Bitty off the bed, but Bitty just climbs over him and wedges himself in between Jack and the wall. “At least the monsters will eat him first,” he thinks uncharitably, then immediately feels guilty and plants a kiss in his sleeping boyfriend’s hair. It’s not his fault he’s so big, and the bed is so small.

It’s Shitty’s fault. It’s entirely Shitty’s fault, and if they get out of this place alive, Bitty is going to have a word with him.

The cheerful chirping of the birds the next morning is in clear contrast to their mood, as they quickly gather up their belongings and throw them into the car. Bitty can tell Jack slept badly – if nothing else, it’s clear that he’s favoring his injured knee. Sleeping all squashed up like sardines didn’t do much for either of them. As Jack works to turn the car around in the tiny parking area Bitty thinks he might have left his toothbrush in the grimy bathroom, but at this point he doesn’t even care.

They finally make it down the driveway and pause, Jack looking over Shitty’s notes to make sure that they can reverse engineer themselves back out to the highway. Although everything looks downright lovely in the morning sunshine, they are both overtired, underfed, and unshowered – not a great combination.

Jack looks out the window, and then back down at Shitty’s notes, and pokes Bitty in the arm. “What does that say?”

Bitty looks where Jack is pointing. “Take a left at-”

“No, the number.”

“Thirty-six.” Shitty’s handwriting isn’t great, but it seems clear to Bitty.

“Look up there.” Jack points at the number nailed to the tree, marking the way back down to the house. Bitty can’t really see what he’s talking about, but Jack scrambles out of the car and motions for Bity to come too.

He walks around the car and looks up at the tree. There’s a rusted metal number three, and a six, but in front of them, there’s another nail and a suspiciously empty space. Jack kneels down and pushes aside some dry leaves, revealing a matching rusted metal number one.

“One thirty-six,” Bitty says. “We were in house number one-thirty-six, not thirty-six. Jack, that wasn’t the Knights’ house.”

“But…” Jack looks at Bitty, wide-eyed. “We were there all night. How…?”

“It was open. We just walked right in. To someone else’s house.” Bitty swallows hard. “Well, okay, it’s okay, we’ll figure it out, we can ask Shitty what to do…”

“It’s not okay, Bits. We just… we shouldn’t have… we trespassed.” Jack says anxiously. “We weren’t supposed to be there!”

Bitty is close to freaking out himself, but then a thought occurs to him. “No? Then how do you explain my moo-maw’s pie tin?”


	5. Chapter 5

(Prompt: Welcome to Gay Hockey “hell”) (I did mention some of my prompt fills would be a bit tenuous, right?)

*****

Jack and Bitty are shaken by the discovery that the house they stayed in last night actually belongs to a stranger, but they get back in the car and drive out to the main road without further mishap. Once they hit the highway, Bitty tries to call Shitty, but he doesn’t pick up. Jack finally pulls over in the parking lot of a diner and digs his phone out of his pocket. As he sends a text, determinedly typing away, Bitty shakes his head.

“He’s not picking up, he’s probably still asleep. You know Shitty, there’s no way he’d wake up at 7 in the morning, even for-”

Jack’s phone rings, and he accepts the call, tossing a quick glance over to Bitty.

“Fine,” Bitty says. “Calls from the perfect Jack Zimmermann are more important than talking to little ‘ol Bitty. I see how it is.”

“Hey, Lards. Thanks for calling me.”

Oh, thinks Bitty. Calling Lardo was a good idea.

“Yeah, I need to talk to Shits. It’s kind of important. I assume he’s there?” There’s a pause. “Shitty – yeah, you might be getting some texts this morning. The reception last night wasn’t any good, but we messaged you a bunch of times – no, I don’t think we were at your place, actually-”

It takes a full five minutes for Shitty to stop laughing once he hears what happened. Jack and Bitty sit solemnly for most of it, Jack holding the phone away from his ear, until finally something shifts.

“You know,” Bitty says, rolling his eyes at the sound of Shitty whooping it up back in Cambridge, “from a certain perspective, it is kind of funny. Us spending the night in the wrong house.”

Jack’s eyes shoot up to meet Bitty’s, and for a minute Bitty thinks Jack is going to argue with him. But then a smile spreads across his face, and he barks out a laugh. 

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

Shitty finally calms down enough to give them better directions to his parents’ actual vacation home, along with a description of what they should find when they get there. 

“Five bedrooms, three and a half baths, an entertainment room with the sweetest fucking sound system, private dock for the boats, kayaks and shit in the shed… you’ve met my parents, Jack, did you really expect anything less?”

Shitty is on speaker now, so that Bitty can hear too.

“We thought maybe they used to be more frugal, you know, like they say New Englanders are,” Bitty contributes, when Jack can offer no explanation for their mistake. “Shitty, what are we going to do about the fact that we trespassed?”

Shitty laughs again, loud and brassy through the phone. “Don’t sweat it. You said it was just a crappy little place, right? Kind of run-down, tiny, two little bedrooms upstairs?”

“Yes? But we still weren’t supposed to be there.”

“My dad knows the owner. He hasn’t been up there in years – the guy used to let his kids use it when they were in college, they basically wrecked the place. There was a whole fucking scandal, actually, somebody got hurt during a party. No one’s used it since then.”

“Someone got hurt?”

“Yeah, there was a fight or some shit. I’ll have my dad give the guy a call, tell him we looked in on the place and if they don’t fix it up we’re gonna call the neighborhood association. Fuck, I can’t believe you guys actually slept there.”

“We didn’t have much of a choice,” Jack says flatly. “It was late when we got there, and dark. And your directions were awful.”

“Really, bro. I never took you for much of a camper. Bitty, did Jack ever tell you how much he hated roadies when we were freshman? Always slept with that beanie on, didn’t want to lay his pristine head down on the questionable hotel pillows.”

Bitty glances over to Jack, who’s rubbing his forehead with his fingers like he’s got a headache.

“That was freshman year, Shits,” Jack says. “One time.”

“Brah, it was at least three or four times. And you told me not to walk around barefoot, and you freaked out when I didn’t want to wear a shirt to bed – it was as if you didn’t know me at all.”

“I didn’t know you,” Jack points out. “We had just met. And it was one time.”

“Shitty, I think we’re going to go get something to eat now,” Bitty says, pleased when Jack looks up at him and nods in agreement. “It’s been a long morning already. But thanks for your help. We’ll let you know when we get in the house.”

They decide to go into the diner where they’ve been parked for the last few minutes, and as soon as they open the door, the aroma of coffee and bacon gives them both a second wind. Soon they are settled in the corner of the big room, steaming mugs of coffee in front of them, and a promise of pancakes and bacon and eggs on the way.

“I’m sorry this has been such a mess,” Jack says, still somewhat subdued. “I wanted us to have a good time.”

Bitty takes his hand under the table and gives it a squeeze. “This is not your fault. And we are definitely going to have a good time. Didn’t you hear what Shitty said about his parents’ real place? It sounds like a palace.”

Several hours later they are pulling up outside number thirty-six, the Knights’ actual vacation home. While it doesn’t look like a palace, it puts Bitty in mind of a small hotel, something you’d find on the cover of a postcard advertising the best of the White Mountains. 

“It’s like three times as big as the cabin in _On Golden Pond,”_ Jack says as they climb out of the car, unpacking the bags they had so hastily thrown in the trunk earlier that morning.

“Have you actually seen that movie?” Bitty asks, knowing what the answer will be. He’s known Jack for years, but he’s still surprised sometimes by how much Jack’s pop culture education seems to have stalled with the 1980’s.

“Henry Fonda and Katharine Hepburn won Oscars for that movie. It’s a classic,” Jack replies.

They walk up the steps to the grand wraparound porch, and Bitty can’t help but drop his bag and run around to the lake side of the house. Jack follows him, gazing fondly at him as he finally sees the view – if that’s what you call it when the lake shore is a mere stone’s throw from the house itself, only a pleasantly manicured lawn in between. The promised private dock is there, too, with a small powerboat and a sailboat tied up on either side.

“Wow. It’s beautiful,” Bitty says.

Jack comes up behind him and wraps his arms around him, dropping a kiss to his neck. “You are. And the lake is, too.”

“You fool,” Bitty says fondly.

Jack shrugs, his chest pressed up against Bitty’s back. 

“Do you think we can take the boats out?” Bitty asks. “I don’t know if I’d want to risk the sailboat, but I’ve driven little motorboats before.

“Sure, we can if you want to. Shitty said there were instructions in the kitchen.”

“And if we can’t figure it out, we’ll call Lardo and make him talk to us some more.”

“Exactly.”

They go inside, and Bitty is overwhelmed not just by the charm of the well appointed home, but by the contrast with the tiny, unwelcoming place they had slept in the night before. Shitty’s parents’ clearly keep this home ready for guests – there is a fully stocked refrigerator and pantry, and everything is gleaming, including the kitchen.

The house is decorated with an eye towards what must be perceived as lake house style – the floor has wide, wooden boards, there are calico pillows artfully placed on the couches, and several Adirondack chairs sit on the lawn, perfectly situated for viewing the sun as it rises over the lake. But no expense has been spared as far as luxury is concerned.

“Which bedroom should we take?” Bitty asks, as Jack lugs both their suitcases upstairs.

“The one with the biggest bed?”

They investigate and discover two bedrooms with king sized beds, each with en suite bathrooms. “Let’s take this one,” Bitty says, going back into the slightly smaller of the two. “The bigger one is probably Shitty’s parents’ room, we should respect their privacy.”

“Oh, after a night of breaking and entering, now you’re all about respecting privacy,” Jack chirps, and Bitty swats him on the butt in return.

“We didn’t break. The door was open.”

“What, did Shitty tell you that? As long as he doesn’t actually have to represent us in court, I suppose we’re okay.”

The next few days pass quickly, as they enjoy everything the beautiful home has to offer – not to mention each other. After one marathon sex session that stretches from afternoon to late into the evening, Bitty finally begs off, suggesting they watch a movie before they injure themselves. Shitty was right about the entertainment room, too – his parents have installed a ridiculously large screen television and two rows of lounge chairs in a room in the basement, and it provides the best movie watching experience Bitty has ever had.

Bitty wakes up the next morning alone in bed, and he stretches contentedly, warm under the thick down duvet. Jack had declared that he was going to get up and scope out the best places to take pictures of the sunrise. Bitty had thought this was a wonderful idea – for Jack – and reassured him that he had no problem staying home and keeping the bed nice and cozy warm for him. Getting up before dawn on vacation was pretty much Bitty’s idea of hell, but the fact that Jack wanted to do it was just fine with him.

Bitty hears Jack coming up the stairs not long afterwards. There’s a little squeak as the door is pushed open, but Jack doesn’t say anything.

He’s trying not to wake me up, Bitty thinks, his heart swelling. He opens his eyes and winks at his boyfriend, who is standing cautiously in the doorway, his camera still looped around his neck. “Hello, handsome.”

A shy smile spreads across Jack’s face. It’s Bitty’s favorite sight. Waking up early on vacation may be hell, but this – time together with the most loving, most beautiful man he has ever met - this is heaven.


	6. Chapter 6

“Bro, that little one was feisty. I think she had a real sword!”

Bitty can easily hear Shitty chattering away with Jack, outside on the deck of the lake house. Shitty and Lardo have joined them for a long weekend, and the four of them spent the day at a pumpkin festival. The event had featured a carved pumpkin display, a craft fair, pony rides, copious amounts of food and drink, and lots and lots of costumed children trick-or-treating around the fairgrounds.

Lardo is outside rummaging through her car to find the sparklers she swears up and down she brought, and Bitty is in the kitchen assembling cookies on a plate. Not that they really need any more food, after everything they have consumed today, including the burgers they just grilled and devoured, but no meal is complete without something sweet, Bitty rationalizes. And frankly, his pumpkin spice cookies with maple frosting are way better than any of the baked goods on sale at the fair.

Bitty grabs his down vest from where it had been tossed on a couch and puts it on before going back outside to the deck. It’s almost midnight, and any warmth from the pleasant fall day has long since departed. Shitty and Jack are happily lounging in the comfy deck chairs, unaffected by the distinct chill in the air.

Shitty reaches out and nabs a cookie from the plate before Bitty even sets it down. “You are a bottomless pit, my friend,” Bitty comments mildly, offering the plate to Jack, who shakes his head.

“No thanks.” Jack looks a little guilty, but Bitty slides on to his lap and wraps his arms around his neck and gives him a lingering kiss.

“You don’t have to eat them just because I made them,” Bitty says softly into his ear. “We’ve been over this.”

“I know.” Jack looks up at Shitty, who is now on cookie number two – or maybe three. “But they’re so good!”

“I saved a few out – they’re wrapped in foil on the counter. You can have them tomorrow when you’re not so stuffed.”

“This is why I love you,” Jack says, kissing Bitty’s nose and then snuggling him closer on his lap.

Lardo appears with the sparklers and she and Shitty start debating whether it is safe to light them on the deck – not surprisingly, Shitty is all in favor, but Lardo insists that they go down to the lawn.

“I refuse to take part in burning the house down,” she announces, hands on her hips, and Shitty just laughs.

“You’ve just been paranoid about fire ever since that show at your friends’ gallery in Rockport.”

“Three people got burned!” Lardo points out. 

“Lightly singed,” Shitty interjects.

“And the insurance wouldn’t pay to rebuild the studio. We do this on the lawn, or not at all.”

“Come on,” Jack says, helping Bitty stand up. “Lardo’s got more common sense than you’ll ever have, Shitty.”

“Besides, if we burned down this lovely home, we’d never get to use it again,” Bitty says, taking an unlit sparkler from Lardo and heading down the stairs to the yard. “And I, for one, am having a wonderful time here.” He pauses to let Jack walk down the steps in front of him, and then grabs Jack’s arm before they reach the bottom. Jack turns, his face almost level with Bitty’s, and grins before planting a smacking kiss on his lips.

“Bros, save your wonderful time for later,” Shitty jokes, shoving Bitty in the back. “It’s time to light these up!”

The sparklers reflect prettily off the lake, red and yellow and blue. Shitty is teasing Lardo with his as it sizzles and sputters, shouting excitedly as each color appears. Bitty is waving his around in gentle figure eights when he realizes Jack has handed his sparkler off to Lardo and is standing back by the house, taking pictures of the scene. 

“Do that again,” he says, when Bitty approaches. “Swirl it around, but more slowly.”

Bitty complies, his glance flickering between the sparks shooting into the air and Jack’s face, drawn in concentration behind the camera. 

Jack looks up. “I can capture the trail they make. It looks pretty neat – I’ll show you later.”

He does – several hours later, when they have changed into sleep pants and sweatshirts and gotten into bed. Bitty leans against Jack’s arm as he scrolls through the photos he took today, starting with the shots of the sparklers shooting colors into the night, and then going back through their day at the festival.

There are, as always, an abundance of photos of Bitty. Jack lingers for a moment on one series in particular, when Bitty had spotted a little kid dressed as a hockey player and made sure to praise her costume. Bitty hadn’t said anything about Jack, of course, but the child’s mom had given the two of them a knowing glance and an appreciative smile, and then shooed her child off to join the line of trick or treaters forming by the food stalls.

When they have gone through them all, Jack turns off his camera and sets it down on the nightstand. He fiddles with it, curling the strap up or something, and Bitty lays a hand on his shoulder.

“Something bothering you, hon?”

Jack shrugs, then flops back towards Bitty. Bitty runs a finger across his creased forehead, and Jack rolls his eyes at him. Bitty always knows when Jack is worried – it’s not hard to tell. Getting him to actually explain why is a different story.

“You can tell me, sweetheart.”

Jack purses his lips, his eyes flitting up to Bitty’s and then back to the ceiling. “All those kids today…”

“Yes?” Bitty is suddenly nervous. This doesn’t seem like Jack is about to reminisce about his days coaching pee-wee hockey, or some Falconers publicity event for sick children, not with how hesitant Jack is.

“Do you ever think about… do you want…?”

It’s the question Bitty has been dreading for years, ever since it became clear to them both that what they had together was something more than just dating. 

“Do I want… kids?” Bitty asks, buying time. “Um… do you?”

“I asked first,” Jack says, no hint of humor in his voice.

“We’re not even married yet.”

“That’s because you insist on a summer wedding, Bits, and you didn’t want to do it this summer because of playoffs.” Jack’s face softens. “What I’m asking is if someday, when we’re married, do you want kids?”

Bitty still doesn’t answer, and he feels his eyes filling with tears.

“Because,” Jack says, his voice tight, “I’m not sure I do. And maybe it isn’t fair of me to not say anything, not when you’re so good with them, when-”

Jack’s words are cut off when Bitty grabs him in to a tight hug. “Oh, honey, oh my Lord, I’m so relieved, I didn’t know how to bring it up, I was so worried, what if you wanted five kids, or a whole hockey team, I would do anything for you, you know I would, but I’m only twenty-four, and I don’t know, I just don’t know…”

Jack squeezes him in return and then pulls back, pushing an errant strand of hair off his face. Bitty closes his eyes, overwhelmed, and then opens them up again.

“So you don’t want kids, then?” Jack asks.

Bitty swallows hard. “I don’t think so? I don’t feel any overwhelming urge to have children. But I love you, so much, Jack, so much, and if you…”

Jack shakes his head and lets out a long breath. “I feel the same. Exactly the same.”

“You do?”

Jack nods. “I like kids, I do. But…” he shrugs. “Maybe someday? But if you said definitely not, never, that would be fine, too.”

Bitty scrubs at his face, where a few tears have escaped down his cheeks. “I was so afraid to say anything.”

“Me too.” Jack sighs, and then smiles at Bitty, and everything is better. “Bits, we’re still kind of idiots, aren’t we?”

Bitty laughs. “Yeah. But you’re kinda cute, so I put up with you.”

“Kinda cute?” Jack says, mimicking Bitty’s accent. 

“Yup. Acceptably good-looking.”

“I’ll give you acceptably good-looking,” Jack teases, pulling Bitty on top of him and framing his face with his hands. 

Jack’s eyes are warm as they gaze into his, and Bitty ducks his head and whispers into Jack’s ear. “Okay if we move past the scary conversation into sexytimes now?” Bitty asks.

“Bien sûr, mon amour.”


	7. Chapter 7

(Prompt: Witches)

It’s mid-morning, and Jack is curled up on the couch reading. He can hear Bitty puttering away in the lake house’s kitchen, and the familiar sounds comfort him. Bitty’s humming, something that’s been on the radio enough for Bitty to have memorized it word for word and note for note, and for Jack to vaguely recognize that it’s new.

Bitty comes in and Jack scoots over so Bitty can perch on the edge of the couch.

“Here, taste.” Bitty holds out a bite-sized tidbit to him, and Jack obediently opens his mouth. “It’s brie with pumpkin butter on a toasted cracker, with a little honey drizzle and crushed pistachios. What do you think?”

Jack finishes chewing and then presses a slightly sticky kiss to Bitty’s lips. “Delicious.”

“I’m trying to branch out with our fall menus. One can only have so much butternut squash soup and pumpkin bread.”

Jack isn’t sure he’s reached that point, but he’s not about to argue. “Oh? What else did you have in mind?”

“Well, I told Lardo to get a roast, so that’ll be our main course, with enough left over for sandwiches tomorrow, and some root veggies to go with it.” Shitty and Lardo had expressed a dire need for some “real” coffee (“not that the coffee from that Keurig-beast is the worst, but I’m dying for a good latte, bro”) so they had volunteered to go into town and do the food shopping while they were at it. “But I’m torn between cashew mushroom bisque and a spicy red lentil soup to go with the meat. Lentils are so healthy, you know, but cashews are more interesting…”

“I think it all sounds great,” Jack says, and Bitty beams at him in response.

“Of course you do.” He leans down and kisses Jack, and Jack lets go of his book to wrap a hand around the back of Bitty’s head and hold him close. 

Bitty snuggles against Jack, stretching out next to him on the couch, a hand on his chest. “Remember when Chowder was sick and he asked Lardo to make soup for him my junior year? He was convinced he’d get pho, but she made him her mother’s favorite cheddar and broccoli soup.”

“She must have chirped him endlessly for that.”

“She and Shitty both.”

Bitty squirms closer to Jack, and he wraps a hand around his back, holding him securely so he doesn’t fall on to the floor. The book Jack had been reading slides off the couch with a dull thump.

“Good book?”

Jack nods. “It’s about the witch hysteria in the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1692, and some of the world events that led up to and influenced the witch trials.”

“Have you ever been to Salem?” Bitty asks, and Jack smiles. It’s as if Bitty is reading his mind.

“Nope. I was thinking maybe we could go for the day, on our way back to Providence.”

A shadow falls over Bitty’s face, and Jack wonders if he said something wrong. “Bits? We don’t have to go, it was just an idea.”

“Oh no, sweetheart, it’s not that. It’s just… it’s been so nice, being here with you – and Shitty and Lards… I don’t like thinking about going back.”

“I like being here with you, too,” Jack says, and he hopes Bitty knows how much he means it. “But we can’t stay here forever,” Jack says. “Although we don’t have to leave right away, either.”

Bitty laughs, all lightness again, like the sun streaming in through the window. “You, my love, are a master of indecision.”

Jack huffs. “Fine. Make fun of me. That’s the whole problem, isn’t it.”

“What do you mean?”

“We came here so I would focus. On the spreadsheet.” On whether he was just going to be a has-been, or if there was something worthwhile in his future.

“Ah. The spreadsheet we haven’t opened up since we got here.” Bitty traces patterns on Jack’s chest, playing with the zipper on his sweater. “Unless you’ve been seeing Excel behind my back.”

“I would never do that,” Jack says seriously, and Bitty giggles at him. “But it’s true. We came up here for me to make a decision, and I haven’t been doing it.”

It’s Bitty’s turn to grow serious now, and he fixes Jack with a considering look. “I’m betting you’ve been thinking about it, though.”

“Again with the mind reading.” Jack pulls Bitty to him, and buries his nose in his hair. It smells like the coconut shampoo he uses, and the pancakes he made for breakfast. Like home. “I have been thinking, I guess. But the things I like to do… I’m not sure I’d be any good at them.”

Bitty’s hand stops moving on Jack’s chest, and Bitty pushes up, catching Jack’s gaze. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

Jack shrugs. “Well, yeah. What’s the point of doing something if you aren’t any good at it?”

Bitty purses his lips. “How much time did you put into hockey before you played in the NHL? Before you got paid to do what you love?”

“Bitty, it’s not the same.”

“No? Don’t you think you ought to at least give yourself a chance to learn, to try, before you decide you aren’t good at something?”

“But if I want to get a job-”

“You don’t have to get a job right away. You know that, right?”

Jack knows it – financially, he doesn’t ever _need_ to get a job, not really. “Fine, but that doesn’t mean I can just sit around like a useless celebrity leech-”

“Jack! What on earth are you talking about?” Bitty sits up, his eyes sparking with annoyance. “Since when have you ever been a leech? Have you met you? Where is this coming from?”

Jack shrugs. “It’s what the blogs are saying. About my work with the Falcs since the end of last season. That I’m just taking advantage of my name.”

“Jack,” Bitty sighs out, moving to straddle Jack’s waist so he can sit without tumbling on to the floor. Jack’s hands automatically go to Bitty’s hips, steadying him. “You are not a leech, and you should not be reading those blogs,” he says, tapping Jack’s chest for emphasis. “You need to give yourself permission to do whatever you want with your life – whatever _you_ want, not what you think you are supposed to do. And if that means going back to school to study something new, or get another degree, or a teaching certification, or just to enjoy yourself – that’s perfectly acceptable. It’s your life, Jack. You only get one.”

There’s a bit of sadness in Bitty’s voice, and Jack feels his heart clench. “I’m sorry, Bits. This… it’s hard for me.”

“I know. But don’t give up, okay? And don’t shortchange yourself. I’m sure once you figure out what you want to do, you’ll work like hell to be good at it. Right?”

Jack nods. “Right. Of course.” It’s easy enough for Bitty to say. But what’s the chance that he’ll be able to be as good at anything as he’s been at hockey? He knows Bitty means it, though, and that affects him more than he could have anticipated. Bitty believes in him, and while Bitty’s pies might not truly be magic, the power of his belief is surprisingly strong.

There’s a noise from the hallway, and the door opens, Lardo yelling back at Shitty not to forget the beer in the trunk.

“Guess I’d better help them put the groceries away,” Bitty says, climbing off of Jack. “Since I made them go out and buy everything.”

“Wait – Bits?” Jack stops him with a hand around his wrist, and Bitty turns.

“Yeah, hon?”

“Can we work on the spreadsheet later? I have something I want to add.”

That afternoon, when Shitty takes Lardo out on the sailboat (“of course I know how to sail, what kind of privileged New England brat do you take me for?”), Bitty gets his laptop out. Jack stares at the spreadsheet for a few minutes, and then makes a new column titled “Possible Courses of Study to Consider.” Underneath, he types one word. 

Photography.


	8. Chapter 8

(Prompt: Kit Purrson)

After an afternoon out on the lake – Bitty and Shitty in one canoe, Jack and Lardo in the other – Bitty is in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a salad. They have leftover soup from the night before (he had gone with the red lentil, after Lardo confessed that she hated mushrooms), and Bitty was going to make some easy grilled cheese sandwiches to go with them. 

Lardo wanders in, raising an eyebrow at Bitty. “Need any help?”

He shakes his head. “No thanks, darlin’. It’s under control. But I appreciate the company.” Jack and Shitty are on the deck, deep in conversation about whether the current post-high school academic system is just a sham to squeeze money out of scared families desperate to secure livelihoods for their children, or actually imparts useful knowledge worth the cost, and Bitty knows it is going to be a while before they come to any conclusions – or get tired of arguing and come in search of food.

Lardo perches on a stool by the kitchen island, and starts to scroll through social media on her phone, occasionally reading out a particularly amusing story to Bitty. There is some kind of scandal going on with one of the stars of Gray’s Anatomy which has been dominating the twitterverse for a few days.

“The real scandal is that that show is still on the air,” Lardo says. “And what the hell happened to Meredith’s kids – didn’t she have three of them? Why don’t we ever see them?”

“Boarding school, maybe?” Bitty suggests, picking up his cutting board and sliding the neatly sliced endive into a large salad bowl.

“Once a season they bring them up, or occasionally show a toy or two in her otherwise perfectly decorated living room – then they disappear for the rest of the year.”

“Does this offend you personally in some way, dear?” 

Lardo directs a glare at Bitty. “It’s just not realistic – she’s a single mom with a demanding job. You’d think there’d be some sign of her three kids.”

“Oh, and the fact that every doctor in that hospital looks like a runway model is realistic?”

“The show is actually pretty good about representation,” Lardo says, frowning. “Not great, mind you, but better than some.”

“Are we arguing about television again?” Jack asks, coming up behind Bitty and planting a cool kiss on the back of his neck. 

“Lards, put your phone away,” Shitty says, opening the fridge and offering her a beer. “Chill.”

“You sound like Nursey,” Bitty comments, swatting Jack’s hand away as he picks a red pepper off the cutting board, perilously close to where Bitty is using a rather large chef’s knife. “Careful, I’ll wind up taking a finger off.”

“That would narrow down your career options, bro.” Shitty opens another beer and hands it to Bitty, who takes a sip and places it next to him on the counter.

“I don’t think losing a finger really eliminates any of my career possibilities,” Jack says. “Although I guess maybe it depends which one. It would suck to lose a thumb, but like, a pinky wouldn’t be that bad, especially on my left hand-”

“Enough talk of losing fingers!” Bitty declares, turning to scowl at his friends. “Jack, you and Shitty go set the table, and stay out of my hair. Lardo and I were doing just fine before you two came in here and started stirring up trouble.”

“Sorry,” Jack says with a smile, giving Bitty a quick peck on the lips and stealing another slice of red pepper. “We’ll go be useful.”

“Boys,” Bitty mutters as they leave the room. 

“Can’t live with ‘em, can’t convince them to go to Paris with you.”

“Paris? Lardo, are you going to Paris?” This is news.

She shrugs. “I’m not sure. There’s a program I’ve always wanted to do at the Louvre, and they’ve got an opening starting in January.”

“For how long?”

“A year.”

Bitty’s stomach sinks. He can’t imagine being away from Jack for a year. “And Shitty…?”

“He’s talked about taking some time off from the public defender’s office. But he’s not sure what he’d do with himself in Paris. He probably couldn’t get permission to work, and even if he could, he doesn’t speak French.”

“That’s… not a great situation.”

“No, it’s not.” Lardo sighs. “Let’s not talk about it, okay? I need to figure it out with Shitty first. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I get it. But you know you can talk to me, if you need to. Anytime.”

Lardo smiles softly at him. “I know, Bits.” 

Bitty gets the soup out of the refrigerator and sets it on the stove to reheat, then begins assembling the grilled cheese sandwiches. He had made a loaf of crusty bread yesterday that they somehow hadn’t managed to finish off, and he slices it thin so he can make four sandwiches out of it. Lord, he thinks, this group goes through a lot of food.

After a few minutes, Lardo coos, and jumps off the stool, holding her phone out to Bitty. “Look at this, isn’t he the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”

Surprisingly, for Lardo, it’s not a baby duck – it’s a photo of Kent Parson holding a tiny black kitten. The darling little thing has an orange bow around his neck, and one eye is squeezed shut. The caption reads “Adopt a little devil just in time for Halloween.”

“I assume you’re talking about the cat, and not Kent?”

Lardo frowns at him. “Of course.” She scrolls down. “Aww, look at this one.”

This time it is a small orange striped cat, curled up next to a long-haired gray one. 

“Pumpkin sleeps well next to Kit Purrson, but he’d sleep even better next to you,” Lardo reads. “Kit’s awfully cute too, isn’t she? How old is that cat anyway?”

“No idea. And since when is Kent selling cats?”

“He’s not selling them, he’s helping a cat adoption agency – Angel Cat Rescue, in Las Vegas. Although he says on his blog that if anyone wants a cat and can’t come to get it, he’ll arrange for the transportation.”

“That’s very… nice of him.”

Lardo laughs. “You still don’t like Kent, do you?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

“Didn’t he and Jack make up ages ago?”

Bitty shrugs. “Maybe. But Kent never made up with me.”

Lardo goes back to her stool, after cutting herself a chunk off the block of swiss cheese sitting on the counter. “Remember when Chowder and Farmer broke up, right after winter screw our senior year? And then a week later they got back together, and Chowder was all smiley and happy, and then that night he read us the riot act for scowling at her when she came over to get him for dinner?”

Bitty frowns. “It’s not the same.”

“No? Isn’t the important thing Jack’s relationship with Kent, not yours?”

“Lardo, my love, we are just going to have to agree to disagree here.”

“You would agree with me if it was anyone other than Kent Parson.”

“Probably,” Bitty admits. “But no one ever said I was perfect.”

“What?” Shitty has arrived in the kitchen, and he grabs Bitty around the waist and pulls him up off his feet into a ridiculous hug. “You are perfect! The most perfect of pie makers! The most beautiful of bakers! The most…” He runs out of alliterative phrases and turns to Lardo. “Help a bro out here.”

“How much of that beer have you had, Shits?” Lardo asked. “You were supposed to save some of that pumpkin ale for me and Bitty.”

“I can’t believe they make pumpkin beer,” Jack says, joining Lardo at the kitchen island.

“They’ve been making it for decades, bro. Where’ve you been?” Shitty produces one from behind his back, and hands it to Lardo.

“Gee, thanks.”

“It’s almost full.”

“All right, everybody, grab a plate and help me carry everything over,” Bitty says, smiling with happiness at his friends. He’d make dinner for them every night for the rest of his life, he thinks, if they could always be together. It’s like college, but without the unrequited love. Bitty may not be perfect, but time like this with the love of his life and their two best friends definitely is.


	9. Chapter 9

(Prompt: Supernatural creatures/monsters)

Rain has been coming down in sheets all day, and as the night progresses, the wind begins to howl. Bitty and Jack had double checked everything outside before it got dark, making sure that the boats were securely tied to the docks, and the canoes were safe in the shed. The deck furniture is heavy wood and doesn’t seem likely to be affected by the wind, but they move the grill into the garage, and bring the pots of red and yellow mums inside.

“The latest weather report says we could have gusts up to sixty miles per hour,” Bitty says. He and Jack are now camped out on the couch, watching Netflix and staying warm. Bitty keeps checking the weather report on his phone, though. Storms make him nervous.

“At least Shitty and Lardo finally got back to Boston. Shits said the traffic was terrible.”

“It was awfully good having them up here, wasn’t it?” Bitty twists to look at Jack. Jack ducks his head against Bitty’s and kisses his cheek.

“Yeah, it really was.”

“Do you think they’ll come back up next weekend? It’s a long drive to make for just a few days.”

“Maybe. Fall in New England is pretty enticing. And there’s some kind of haunted house event that Shitty wants to go to.”

Bitty laughs softly, running a hand through Jack’s hair. “Personally I’m kind of done with haunted houses for this year.”

“Number one-thirty-six wasn’t a haunted house, Bits. Just a neglected one.”

“Sure. And that pie pan somehow magically appeared, right when I needed it. The exact same vintage pie pan my meemaw used to teach me how to bake.”

Jack huffs. “I admit, that was strange.” He looks over to the coffee table at their empty mugs. “Do you want more hot cider? I think we finally finished off the rum, but there might be something else we can put in it to spice it up.”

Bitty lays his head against Jack’s shoulder. With his ear pressed tightly against Jack’s sweater, the hiss of the wind outside is less noticeable. “Nah. Honestly, I’m pretty tired.”

Jack gives him a squeeze and then takes his hand. “Bed?”

“Bed.”

They reluctantly untangle themselves and get off the couch, Jack detouring to put their mugs in the sink while Bitty folds up the fuzzy blanket they had been cuddling under. Upstairs they take turns in the bathroom, and Bitty stares at the window for a few minutes. They had left the deck lights on outside, so that they could check on the boats. So far, all is well.

When Jack is done washing up he climbs into bed and opens up his arms for Bitty, and Bitty joins him gratefully, sliding into his familiar spot against Jack’s chest. Bitty breathes him in, shaving cream and laundry detergent and cinnamon toothpaste, and Jack. He gets comfortable, winding a leg around Jack’s, and winces as he feels Jack tense.

“Hon? I’m sorry – did I hurt you? Is your knee bothering you tonight?” Bitty slides a hand down Jack’s leg, cupping his injured knee. 

“Just a twinge.” Jack shifts and pulls Bitty back against his chest, despite his protests. “Not much. I think I aggravated it when we were putting the canoes away.”

“I’m sorry,” Bitty says again, pointlessly. He doesn’t care that Jack isn’t the same model of physical perfection that he once was, but he knows it wears on Jack.

“Don’t be sorry, Bits. I’m fine.”

Bitty pushes himself up on an elbow and gazes into Jack’s eyes. “Mmm, yes, you certainly are.”

Jack blushes, and gives Bitty a quick kiss. “I thought you said you were tired.”

Bitty grins. “I seem to have acquired a second wind.” There’s a scraping sound as a branch is blown against the side of the house, and Bitty sighs. “Sorry, bad choice of words.”

“Let me see if I can take your mind off the storm, eh?” Jack leans over Bitty, pushing his sweatshirt up and kissing his skin, starting with the little round of his stomach and then moving up towards his chest. When he gets to a nipple he teases with his tongue, circling it and then tugging until the last thing Bitty is thinking about is the weather.

Bitty pulls his sweatshirt off, and Jack loses his as well, and soon they are pressed tightly against each other, hips churning together. Bitty can feel how hard Jack is through his sleep pants, and he slides a hand down under his waistband until he can wrap his hand around him.

“Oh,” Jack gasps softly, as Bitty begins to stroke him. His legs fall open to give Bitty some space, and he’s making the most delicious noises. Bitty knows Jack is close when he stops nibbling at the skin behind Bitty’s ear and just pants into his neck, so Bitty speeds up the pace until Jack comes, hot and wet over his hand.

Jack takes a minute to catch his breath, but then he’s sliding down Bitty’s body and tugging his pants and briefs down to his knees. Jack doesn’t waste any time before taking Bitty into his mouth. Bitty’s rock hard already, and soon is he coming too, his whole body tensing and releasing as pleasure strums through him.

“We’re going to need to do laundry again tomorrow,” Jack says, wiping them off with his discarded boxers and then settling down on the pillow.

“Oh, you sweet talker,” Bitty teases. He pulls his pants off his ankles and tosses them on the floor, then joins Jack, resting comfortably against Jack’s sweaty skin. 

“I love you,” Jack says quietly into Bitty’s hair.

“Love you too, handsome.”

They fall asleep quickly, but Bitty wakes up not long afterwards. The sounds of the storm grate on his nerves, and he feels like each time he dozes off, the howling wind wakes him up again. 

He wanders into the bathroom and reads on his phone for a little while, not wanting to wake Jack up, but not really interested in being very far from him, either. But when his eyes start to droop, he goes back to bed. Jack is lying on his side, and when Bitty joins him Jack reaches out and gathers Bitty to his chest, without even really waking up. Bitty smiles to himself and plants a kiss on Jack’s arm. This boy never ceases to warm him, body and soul. There may be a storm outside, but things are pretty perfect in here. He finally falls asleep, safe in Jack’s arms. 

Sometime later, Bitty wakes with a start. He’s sitting up in bed, and Jack is awake, too, staring at him.

“Bits? You okay?”

He blinks, trying to clear his head.

“Bitty?”

Bitty reaches out to touch Jack’s broad shoulder, his skin warm and slightly damp from where Bitty had no doubt been sleeping on him. “Yeah, I’m fine.” A memory pushes up at him, and he frowns. “Just a dream, I think.”

Jack lies back down and pulls Bitty against him. “Want to tell me about it?” Jack asks, tucking the blankets in around them.

“Um, sure.” Bitty thinks about it, and then regrets his decision to share, as he remembers what the dream was about. But it’s too late now, as Jack has clearly had his interest piqued.

“Come on, you can tell me. Was it a bad dream?”

“Um, not really.”

Jack slides a hand down to Bitty’s ass and gives it a gentle squeeze. “A sexy dream?”

Bitty laughs. “I think so, actually.”

“You think so?” There’s a pause, and when Jack speaks again, he’s a little less confident. “Was it about me?”

Bitty plants a sloppy kiss on Jack’s mouth and rushes to reassure him. “Yes, it was about you. Me and you. Although…”

“What?”

“It was strange. You were… very interested in my neck.”

Jack nuzzles against Bitty’s neck and gives him a kiss behind his ear. “That’s not strange.”

“You, um, you bit me there. Like, for real.”

“I bit you on your neck?”

“Yeah. Because you were a-” Bitty stops. It’s ridiculous. But he doesn’t even have to say it for Jack to put two and two together.

“No, seriously?” Jack is sitting up now, looking at Bitty in amazement. “You dreamed I was a vampire?” 

“I think I did.”

“Huh.”

“But you weren’t dead, it was just some kind of weird medical condition. And you had to drink blood, but you could eat some things, if I made them special for you.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I made mini-pies.”

“Of course.”

“But with blood in the cherry filling.”

Jack frowns. “That sounds kind of gross.”

Bitty shrugs. “I know, right? But in the dream, you really liked them. There wasn’t much you could eat, but you were really happy that I made them for you.”

“Well, everything you make is good, so…”

Bitty smiles. “Exactly.”

Jack shuffles closer to where Bitty is sitting and rests his hands on Bitty’s waist, his fingers dipping around to tease at his butt. “So, was it good?”

Jack’s fingers are distracting, and Bitty shifts, leaning up on his knees to give Jack room to play. “Um, was what good?”

“The vampire sex,” Jack says, his voice low, with a hint of amusement. “Vampire sex is supposed to be hot, right? Erotic?”

“How would you know?” Bitty leans forward, his hands on Jack’s shoulders for support. “You’re not really a vampire.”

Jack nibbles at Bitty’s earlobe, and then drops a line of kisses down his neck, all the while continuing to work Bitty’s ass with his fingers, squeezing and kneading and sliding a finger in between his cheeks to stroke at his hole. Bitty’s straddling Jack’s thigh now, and breathing hard. Then Jack sucks hard at the skin behind Bitty’s ear, and Bitty thrusts his hips forward, seeking friction against Jack, and losing himself in the sensations.

“I could pretend to be a vampire,” Jack says, whispering into Bitty’s ear. “If you wanted me to.”

“Fuck, Jack, just keep doing what you’re doing. I don’t need you to be a vampire, you’re killing me as it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a blatant shout-out to my fic Heart of Ice, in which Jack is a sort-of-vampire. I couldn’t resist when I saw the prompt.


	10. Chapter 10

(Prompt: Costume ball)

 

It’s still pouring out the next day, and not a gentle, light, drizzle that encourages walks in the rain, but a drenching, freezing cold downpour that has Bitty and Jack sleeping late and then turning over and sleeping some more.

When Jack finally drags himself out of bed, he can smell something delicious. Fresh bread, he thinks, or maybe, from the hint of cinnamon in the air, Bitty’s famous cinnamon rolls. Jack’s not surprised – cooking is Bitty’s answer to everything, and in his experience, bad weather almost always results in Bitty making really good food. 

Jack stretches, arms up over his head, and catches a glimpse of himself smiling in the mirror. The face he sees looks healthy, well-rested, at ease. Happy. How did this become his life? Jack wonders. He can feel his smile stretching his cheeks as he shakes his head and heads downstairs.

After breakfast (he was right about the cinnamon rolls, but Bitty also made omelets with swiss cheese, spinach and tomato, so at least there was some protein on the menu) they clean up, shower, and then find themselves back in the kitchen.

“It’s really not time for lunch yet, Bits. We just ate.”

Bitty has the refrigerator door open and is staring into it. “But it’s too miserable to go outside, and I can’t possibly sleep any more. Or lie on that couch.”

They both glance over to the very comfortable couch where they have spent many hours over the past week watching television, reading, and generally being as lazy as they have ever been. Jack’s a little scared that their asses may have left a dent.

Bitty closes the refrigerator and looks up at Jack with a pout. “I’m bored.”

Jack laughs. “You’re cute.” Bitty just wrinkles his nose at him. Still cute. “You could work on your proposal for the radio station.”

Bitty scoffs. “That is not a good answer. Try again.”

Jack wraps his arms loosely around Bitty’s shoulders and rocks him towards his chest. “We could… explore the house.”

Bitty puts his hand on Jack’s chest, tapping with his fingers. “We’ve already explored the house.”

“Maybe not all of it.”

“It’s not that big, Jack. I don’t think there’s a hidden swimming pool anywhere.”

Jack ignores what is likely some pop culture reference he doesn’t get, and presses on. “Shitty said they had a pile of board games somewhere. Let’s try to find them.”

“Games? Really?”

Jack takes Bitty’s hand and pulls him towards the stairs. “If you are determined to be bored, so be it. But let’s see what we can find. It might be fun.”

Sure enough, in one of the rooms (clearly meant for kids, with two sets of bunk beds covered in colorful duvets, and bookshelves with neatly arranged children’s classics) they find a dresser with games in the top drawer.

“Want to play Monopoly?” Jack asks. “Remember when we tried to play with Shitty?”

Bitty grins. “That was an interesting night.”

“Especially when he decided to make it strip Monopoly.”

“And then started losing on purpose.” Bitty’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, tugging at tufts in the carpet while Jack pokes around in the dresser. He’s still a little grumpy, but Jack thinks he’s getting more cheerful. Jack just needs to find a better game.

Jack opens the second drawer, and – voila. Here’s his answer.

“Look what I found.”

Bitty stands up and follows Jack’s gaze. “Costumes?” He opens the third drawer, and finds more. 

“Wanna play dress up?” Jack asks.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Bitty replies archly, pulling a sparkling princess dress out of the drawer and holding it up against his body. “Although I don’t know if any of these will fit us, sweetheart.”

They find even more costumes in the next drawer, but Bitty’s right, most of them are for children.

“I’ve got an idea,” Bitty says, doing a little twirl with the princess dress, like he’s dancing at a ball. “We take turns pulling a costume out – without looking – and make up a story about it.”

“A story?”

“Yeah. Like…” Bitty purses his lips, and considers the princess dress. It’s Snow White, Jack thinks, and he smiles as Bitty smooths a hand down the blue bodice, and swings the sparkly yellow skirt. “If I were a princess,” Bitty continues, “I would never come to a ball empty handed. I’d always bake something special for the host.”

Jack catches on. “And the handsome prince would be so impressed with your baking, he’d ask you to dance.”

“Exactly.” Bitty drops the dress and holds out his arms to Jack, who makes a little bow and then begins to twirl Bitty gently around the room. “But the prince never asks my name, so the next day-”

“He has to go house to house, trying to find out who made that amazing apple pie with the maple sugar crust!”

“And in all the town, there’s only one person who bakes a pie like that,” Bitty says, preening.

“The handsome prince takes one bite of Bitty’s pie, and he knows he’s found him.” Jack can’t resist anymore, and he grabs Bitty’s hand and pulls him close for a kiss. “’You’re the only one for me,’ the prince declares.”

“Charmer.”

They trade lazy kisses, and then Bitty puts the dress back in the drawer. “Okay, your turn. Don’t look, just grab something.”

Jack closes his eyes and rummages around in the top drawer, trying not to guess before he selects an item and pulls it out. It’s a light green scrubs top, larger than some of the other pieces. Adult size, even.

“Hm,” Bitty says, when Jack holds it up. “Isn’t Shitty’s brother a doctor?”

“Yeah. Surgeon, I think.”

“Of course.” Bitty tilts his head. “And he’s the one with kids, right? Must be why they have all these costumes. All right, well, what’s your story, doctor?”

“My story?” Jack is distracted, thinking about where this piece of clothing may have been. What it might have looked like after a day in the operating room. He sits down on one of the bottom bunks, a little light headed.

“Jack? You okay?”

Jack looks up at Bitty and takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… I’m never gonna be a doctor.”

Bitty sits down next to him and takes the shirt away, then squares his shoulders and gives his best pep-talk look. “You can be anything you want to be, Jack.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Jack sighs, frustrated. The conversation is about to veer back to his career plans, and that is way less fun than making up fairy tales.

“But you can. You’re still young-”

“I’m almost thirty.”

“If you really wanted to go to medical school, you still could, darlin’. Just take a few math and science classes to get up to speed, we can look into what the requirements are, I think there’s one of those aptitude tests, but you’re so good at studying, maybe you could even apply for next fall-”

“Bitty,” Jack says firmly, turning to look him in the eye. “I don’t want to be a doctor. Really. It’s okay. Blood creeps me out, anyway.”

“Oh.” Bitty looks abashed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay. I think… I think I may be close to a decision, anyway.” He doesn’t have to say about what. It’s been hanging over both their heads for so long, and this trip was supposed to give him time to figure it out. He doesn’t know why it’s been so hard.

“Yeah? You want to talk about it?”

Jack feels his chest tighten up, and squeezes his eyes shut. “Maybe later?”

“Of course, sugar.” Bitty wraps his arms around his shoulders and holds him tight, letting Jack breathe steadily into his hair until he can relax again. “Well, I think you get a do-over.” Bitty gives Jack a peck on the cheek and nudges him. “Pick another one.”

“Okay.” Jack stands up and goes over to the dresser. He closes the top drawer and sticks his hand in the next one. His fingers feel something oddly familiar, and he takes it out.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Bitty says, his hand over his mouth.

Jack grins and shrugs it on. It’s a black and gold Penguins jersey with “Zimmermann” on the back, and it fits him perfectly. “I think Shitty’s been holding out on us.” He can’t believe Shits was a Bad Bob fan and never told him. 

“My goodness, Jack.”

“What?”

“You’re going to look just like your father someday, aren’t you?”

Jack’s smile flickers, the echo of a similar conversation reverberating in his mind. But back then they were only kids, and the possibility of achieving anything like what his father had seemed like an impossible dream. The comparison to his dad only made him anxious. Now… it’s a whole different ball game, to mix metaphors.

“What, you don’t think so?” Bitty asks. “You already look like he did when he played for the Pens, I’d bet on it.”

“No… it just reminded me… Kent used to say so, too.”

“Oh.” A determined look passes over Bitty’s face. “We should have Parse over. Next time he’s in town.”

Jack is confused, to say the least. “Um, why?”

“Because he’s your friend, and I know you talk to him. You guys made up years ago, and I think you don’t see him because of me. And that’s not right.”

Jack tries to process this. “It’s not because of you, Bits. Or, at least, not just because of you. Kent and I… we’re friendly, but we’re not really friends.”

“Would you like to be?”

Jack returns to his spot on the bottom bunk, his thigh lined up next to Bitty’s, and tries to find a way to explain this that makes sense. But he can’t come up with anything very helpful. “I guess I don’t really know.”

“Fair enough. But you could find out, if you want, is what I’m saying. If you want to see him, Jack, I’m fine with it.”

“Since when?”

Bitty shrugs. “I talked about it with Lardo. I know sometimes I can be stubborn about things-”

“No, really?”

Bitty laughs and shoves his shoulder. “Stop it, I’m being sincere here. My inability to let go of a grudge, impressive though it may be, isn’t actually something I’m proud of. So if you would like to hang out with Parse, have him over for dinner, whatever, just say the word, and I’ll adjust my attitude. I’ll even cook.”

“Something good?”

“Something good. But not too good. Appropriately good.”

Jack laughs softly and hugs Bitty. “My little boy’s all grown up,” he sing-songs into his ear.

“Don’t push your luck, buster.” Bitty tries to blow a raspberry on Jack’s neck, but it just tickles.

“That’s very adult of you, what was I thinking,” Jack says, chuckling.

Bitty leans against Jack’s neck and sighs, and the sits up, looking at the window. He scrambles off of Jack’s lap and pushes aside the curtain. “Jack - I thought I was imagining it, but I think it finally stopped raining.”

Jack stands up and looks out over his shoulder. The rain has definitely stopped, and the sun is peeking through the clouds, making the lake sparkle. “Want to take a canoe out, or-”

“Yes, yes, anything to get out of this house!” Bitty grins, and dashes off down the stairs, his socked feet sliding as he goes.

Jack starts to take the Pens jersey off but then a thought occurs to him. He snaps a quick selfie and sends it to Shitty, grinning all the while. _We need to talk._


	11. Chapter 11

(Prompt: Autumn goodness)

 

They walk down the street in the little town of Moultonborough, brown leaves crunching under their feet, while more yellow and orange leaves fall from the trees with each gust of wind. Jack smiles at the way Bitty keeps pushing his hair out of his face – he had refused to wear a hat, and was somewhat in need of a trim, so his bangs are repeatedly falling into his eyes. At least he has his red down vest over his sweatshirt, so he isn’t complaining about the cold. Six northeast winters have taught Bitty some things, after all.

Jack has on a very practical beanie and a warm fleece jacket over his sweater. It is cool today, but the bright sunshine more than makes up for it, especially when he has his arm around his ever-cuddly boyfriend. They hadn’t been too obvious about their public displays of affection this morning, when they toured a craftsman-style estate overlooking Lake Winepesaukee, but now, strolling through a quiet neighborhood, there doesn’t seem to be any reason not to be close to Bitty. Within reason, of course.

Jack smiles as Bitty chatters on about each of the houses they pass, critiquing the Halloween decorations (or lack thereof) on each home on this Norman Rockwell-esque street. After their days stuck in the lake house during the rain, they had both decided that an outing was in order for today. Jack had initially been interested in seeing Robert Frost’s farmhouse, but when they realized it would be almost a two-hour drive each way, they adjusted their plans, especially when they read about Castle in the Clouds. 

The visit to the estate had been interesting, and lunch outside on the grand patio, high above the lake, was delicious. But Jack is happiest in quiet moments like these. He takes out his camera, letting Bitty walk ahead of him, and concentrates on the bend of the tree branch above him, and then a scarecrow with a pumpkin for a head.

He snaps a few photos of Bitty, a stone wall dotted with bright orange pumpkins providing a charming backdrop. Leaves flutter down, and Jack rushes to capture the image, the cascade of colors around Bitty so beautiful he almost loses his breath.

“Hey, you,” Bitty says, when Jack catches up to him. “Having a good time?” Bitty tilts his head towards Jack’s camera.

“I am.” He bumps his shoulder against Bitty’s. “I got some nice shots of you.” Jack can feel the blush on his face, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Did you, now,” Bitty says, smiling up at him. “Guess we’ll add them to the collection.”

It’s been a running joke for years, how Jack can’t seem to stop taking pictures of Bitty.

“Why don’t we get some of the both of us?” Bitty asks, taking out his phone. They find a spot with a particularly brilliantly colored tree nearby, and perch on the stone wall, snapping a few selfies until Bitty is satisfied. Bitty pokes at his phone for a few minutes, and then pockets it. “All set. Now everyone will be impressed with our seasonally appropriate activities.”

The next house has an array of pumpkins lining its walkway, and Jack grins when he sees a black cat strolling towards them. The cat is striking against the fall colors, and very photogenic.

Bitty, meanwhile, is crouching down and cooing at the creature, who deigns to sniff his fingertips, then flops down on his side and lets Bitty pet his belly.

“Aren’t you a beautiful thing,” Bitty says, clearly enamored. He checks the cat’s collar. “Pandora. Well, I bet you get into all kinds of trouble, don’t you?”

Jack watches Bitty for a few minutes, and then leans down to pet the cat himself. She’s quite friendly, and meows at Jack when he takes his hand away.

Bitty finally stands up, and says goodbye to the cat, who watches them go from the edge of her property.

“We could get a cat,” Jack says, and from the look on Bitty’s face, he’s as surprised as Jack is to hear the words come out of his mouth.

“Really?”

Jack shrugs. “They’re cute.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Jack Zimmermann?”

Jack frowns. “I never said I didn’t like cats.”

“You never said you liked them, either. And believe me, I’ve showed you plenty of cute cat pictures online over the years. I’d remember.”

“Maybe the pictures weren’t that good.”

Bitty laughs. “We can think about it. But we should probably figure out where you’ll be, first.”

Something strikes Jack as odd in the way that Bitty refers to his career choice problem, but they’re almost back at their car now, so the conversation changes to dinner plans and whether they need to stop at the grocery store. They do, and Bitty busies himself picking out meat to grill, while Jack meanders down the produce aisle, looking for vegetables that Bitty will deem of sufficient quality to put into their salad and actually eat.

Later that night, Jack is washing the dishes, handing them to Bitty to dry. Bitty is perfectly capable of putting them away in the cabinets, Bitty reminds him, but Jack likes to tease, leaning over him to set the dishes on the top shelf. It gives him an opportunity to press against Bitty’s back and breathe into his hair. Bitty knows exactly why he does it, too, and it brings a soft smile to his face.

Jack remembers their conversation from this afternoon, and when they finish with the dishes, he leans back against the kitchen island and reaches out, his hands on Bitty’s elbows pulling him close.

“Bits?”

“Hmm?” Bitty tilts his head, his brown eyes wide as he waits for Jack to speak.

“What did you mean, earlier, when you said we needed to figure out where I’ll be?”

Bitty relaxes, as if relieved that he knows the answer to Jack’s question. “Well, honey, you need to decide what you want to do, and where you’ll go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jack says, confused.

“No? What if you want to go to school, for, say… photography…” Bitty raises his eyebrows, looking for confirmation. “Just for example, mind you. And if the school you want to go to isn’t nearby.”

Jack blinks. “I’m… I’m not going anywhere,” he says again. “Not without you.”

“Jack, this is your life,” Bitty says, his voice firm. “You have to do what you need to do, what’s best for you-”

“What’s best for me is being with you, Bits,” Jack interrupts. “I don’t understand – did you really think I’d make a plan that didn’t include you?” He can feel his hands trembling, and he pulls them away from Bitty’s arms to clutch them together, but Bitty just moves closer, one hand on Jack’s chest and the other on his shoulder. Bitty never backs away from him, no matter how confused he gets.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“No – it’s not okay. You’re – you’re my priority, Bits. You’re what I want in my life, first and foremost. Hockey was bad enough, the way it pushed so many other things out of the way. I mean, it was great, obviously… but it’s done. I’m done.” He’s trembling all over now, and Bitty wraps his arms around him and holds him tight, the way Jack needs him to. 

“All right, honey, all right,” Bitty says soothingly, rubbing his back and letting him dig his face into Bitty’s neck. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just… you’re _my_ priority too.”

Jack doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but he lets Bitty hold him, and focuses on his breathing. Finally he can draw in a deep breath, and he does, in and out, several times, until he can trust himself to pull back and look at Bitty.

“I’m not going anywhere, not without you. We’re a team.”

“Okay. Good.” Bitty’s mouth twitches up at the side, and then he laughs, shaking his head.

“What?”

“I feel like we need to put that on the Excel chart. Since it’s been decided and everything.”

Jack grins, relaxing. “Maybe we should.”

Bitty steps away from Jack, a hand lingering on his arm. “Go sit down on the couch and get out the laptop. See what else you can fill in. I’m going to make us some hot chocolate, and then I’ll join you.”

Jack does as he’s told. He gets settled on the couch and lets himself just breathe for a few more minutes, listening to Bitty singing as he puts a saucepan on the stove and warms the milk. They’ll figure it out. He’s not even surprised at the confidence he feels. With Bitty by his side, nothing seems impossible.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains an injury and a trip to the hospital.

(Prompt: Horror story)

 

“And we might even get a cat. Depending upon whether we stay in Jack’s condo, or look for something a little bigger, with room for a studio for each of us. We might wait on that, but we’re thinking about it, going over our options.” Bitty is prattling happily away to Lardo as he takes a tray of cookies out of the oven. “Let me get my laptop and show you, there’s a lady in Arlington that fosters kittens, not too far away from where you guys live, I thought we might go visit…” Bitty disappears upstairs, Lardo following right behind him.

“Sounds like you guys have made a lot of progress.” Shitty watches them go, then pats Jack on the shoulder. “Your little lake house hiatus has done you good. I’m proud of you, bro.” His eyes land on Jack’s camera, sitting out on the kitchen island. “I take it your future plans include photography?”

Jack nods, pleased at how comfortable he feels with his decision. “Providence College has a great program. I’m not sure yet if I’ll go for an MFA, or just take some classes. I emailed my professor at Samwell, and he’s got some ideas too. Still figuring it all out.”

“That’s awesome, Jack. Really.” Shitty opens the refrigerator and takes out a beer. “Want one?”

“No thanks, Shits.” 

Jack watches as his friend chugs the bottle, then pats his stomach until he lets out an impressive belch. He’s glad that Shitty and Lardo could join them for their last few days at the lake house, but he’s never quite gotten over how ridiculous Shitty can be.

“Very nice, Shitty. Does that impress all your lawyer friends?”

Shitty laughs. “Bro, only a few people get to see my most genuine self. You should be honored.”

“I am, Shitty.”

Shitty wraps an arm around his shoulder and tugs him close, then presses a kiss to the side of his head. “I know, man.” He lets go and sits on a stool, spinning himself around. “So, what’s on the schedule for today? I know Bits isn’t all that interested in haunted houses, but there’s some crazy Halloween zipline shit that Lardo heard about and-”

There’s a bone-chilling scream, followed by a thump, and Jack feels his heart stop. He’s on his feet and flying towards the sound when he sees Bitty in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs.

Jack’s knees hit the floor and his hands flutter over Bitty’s body. “Bitty? Bits? Are you okay? Bitty?”

“Holy fuck, what happened?” Shitty says.

“He fell.” Lardo is still on the stairs, looking down at them, her face drained of blood.

“Bitty?” Jack says again. Bitty’s lying on the ground, face up, but his eyes are closed. One socked foot is still on the stairs. He looks so uncomfortable, but Jack knows he shouldn’t move him. “Bitty?” He reaches out one hand, touches his shoulder, his cheek. “Bitty, say something. Please. Bitty.”

“Shitty, what’s the address here?” 

Jack hears Lardo talking, but he can’t really process it. “Shitty, what do I do?”

Shitty crouches down next to him and puts a hand to Bitty’s neck. “Lardo’s calling an ambulance. He’s breathing fine, Jack. He’s probably just knocked out. He’s gonna be okay.” 

“Bitty, please wake up,” Jack begs, leaning forward to brush his lips across Bitty’s cheek. “Bitty. Please. Please be okay. Bitty.” He doesn’t know how long he stays there, Shitty’s hand on his back, before there’s a voice asking him to step away.

The paramedics are suddenly everywhere, putting a neck brace on Bitty and moving him – should they be moving him? – and there’s a stretcher, and they’re talking to each other, but Jack can’t hear them. It feels like there’s an anvil on his chest, and he can feel the panic attack rising, threatening to steal his breath, but this isn’t the time, he has to keep breathing, Bitty needs him.

There’s a moan, and Jack shoves past a paramedic to get closer. Bitty’s eyes are still closed. “Bits? Bitty?”

“Jack?” Bitty says, his eyes fluttering open.

“Oh thank god, Bitty, are you okay? I’m here, I’m right here.”

“Jack, what… what happened?” Bitty’s eyes are wide and scared.

“You fell down the stairs, Bits-”

“Sir, we need to get your friend to the hospital.”

Which is fine with Jack, but there’s no way he’s leaving Bitty’s side, or letting go of his hand. Jack just stays there, next to Bitty, murmuring softly into his ear, and lets Shitty and Lardo take care of everything else.

As a result, he winds up in the ambulance with Bitty. It’s only the second time Jack’s ever been in an ambulance, and he doesn’t remember the first time. He dearly hopes this one will be his last.

Bitty closes his eyes after a few minutes, and Jack turns to the paramedic, who is hooking something up to Bitty’s arm. Bitty doesn’t even flinch when the needle goes in.

“Is that bad? That he’s… asleep?”

The paramedic gives him a blank look that Jack prays doesn’t mean “I have no fucking clue.” What he would give to be on the way to Mass General right now. “I’m sorry, sir, we won’t know more until we get to the hospital and they run some tests.”

Jack leans down next to Bitty and smooths his hair away from his forehead. “Bitty? Bits?” He takes Bitty’s hand and curls his own around it. “If you can hear me, squeeze my hand, okay? Just a little?”

Jack feels Bitty’s hand tighten, and he lets out a breath. “Thank you, Bits, that’s great. Good job. You’ve gotta stay with me, okay? I’m right here with you, stay with me, you can do it.”

Bitty’s eyes blink open again. “It hurts so much, Jack.”

“I know. Just hang in there, okay?”

The ambulance goes over a bump, and Bitty grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut. “Ow…”

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart.”

Bitty’s eyes open again, and find Jack’s. “You called me sweetheart. I must be dying.”

Jack laughs, insanely, with relief. “You cannot be chirping me right now.” He leans in and gives Bitty the lightest of kisses. “I love you, sweetheart,” he says again, emphasizing the endearment. “It’s gonna be okay.”

The next hour passes in a blur. When they arrive at the hospital Bitty is whisked away for tests. At least in a place this small, the emergency room isn’t crowded. 

Shitty and Lardo show up a few minutes after the ambulance arrives, and then wrap Jack up in tight hugs, human scaffolds around his trembling body. Then Shitty peels off and heads towards the front desk, taking care of whatever needs to happen at a time like this.

“Just a few minutes ago he was a frat boy, and now he’s…”

“It’s why he’s such a good lawyer,” Lardo says. “Half the time, people don’t even realize they are doing what he wants them to, until they’ve already done it.”

Shitty comes back and sits down on Jack’s other side, an arm heavy over his shoulders. It helps. Jack swallows hard, clutching his hands together. “When will we know…?” If he’s okay, Jack thinks. Just tell me he’s okay.

“Thirty minutes, maybe an hour. Lila over there will tell us as soon as there’s news.” Shitty waves a little to the curly haired woman at the reception desk, and she gives him a shy wave in return.

“Should I…” Jack swallows hard. “Should I call Bitty’s parents?”

Shitty rubs his forehead. “I think maybe wait until we get some news? If we call them now, they’ll just be as scared as we are.”

Jack looks at Shitty, who fixes him with an intent look right back. 

“What, bro, you think I’m not scared? I’m fucking terrified.”

They wait, Jack trembling and Lardo petting him and Shitty getting up and pacing, for what seems like forever, until finally a tall woman in scrubs and a white jacket comes out.

“I’m Doctor Harris. Are you with Eric Bittle?”

They nod, almost in unison. 

“He’s doing fine. Come on, you can see him now.”

“All of us?” Jack asks, and she turns back and smiles at him.

“Sure.”

Another advantage to a small town hospital, Jack thinks. The doctor leads them down a hallway and around a corner and down another hallway until Jack is shaking with the need to just see Bitty again and why won’t she walk a little faster and then, finally, they’re at the door.

“Go ahead, bro, we’ll give you a minute,” Shitty says.

Jack is suddenly nervous as he goes into the room. Bitty is lying on the bed, an IV hooked up to his arm. His eyes are closed, and a thin blanket is pulled up over his chest.

“Bits?” Jack sits down gingerly on the chair next to the bed and scoots it closer. “Bitty?” He takes Bitty’s hand and gives it a careful squeeze.

“Jack?” Bitty’s eyes open, and he breaks into a wide smile. “Hello, handsome.”

“He’s on some pretty good pain meds,” Doctor Harris says.

Jack starts at her voice – he had forgotten she was in the room. “What’s… how is he? Is he okay?”

“Seems like he took a pretty bad fall down the stairs,” she replies. “He might want to rethink walking around in socks on hardwood. But he’s going to be fine.”

“Concussion?” Jack asks. Because there’s no way that thump wasn’t Bitty’s head hitting the wall. “He’s had a concussion before, playing hockey in college.”

“I know, he told me. And yes, he’s concussed. But it’s mild. He’s got a hard head, that boy of yours.”

Jack looks at her again, surprised at her fond tone, and she shrugs. “He told me all about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” Jack mutters, his face warming. Bitty’s eyes have closed again, but he’s still smiling dopily.

“Very good things.”

Jack gingerly touches Bitty’s cheek, and Bitty turns into his touch, his smile widening. “Pain meds, eh?” Jack asks.

“Mostly for his head, and some other aches and pains. He’s pretty well bruised on one shoulder, must have landed there. Nothing broken, though. A few days of rest and he’ll be fine.” The doctor pats him on the back and gives Bitty a tender look. “I’ll be back in a few hours to check on him. Let the nurses know if you need anything.”

The doctor leaves, and Shitty and Lardo come in. Lardo finds another chair and sits on Bitty’s other side, and Shitty tries to share Jack’s chair. Eventually Shitty gives up and sits on the floor, leaning against the wall by the door.

“You guys don’t have to stay,” Jack says, but Shitty just makes a grumbling noise and Lardo raises an eyebrow. 

It’s a long, uncomfortable night. Bitty wakes up when the nurse checks on him, and can’t get back to sleep. His head hurts, and he’s maxed out on pain meds, and Jack doesn’t know what to do. He wants to just climb into bed with him and hold him in his arms, but there’s no way on earth he would fit, and besides, he’s not sure it would help Bitty anyway.

So Jack sits by his side, as close as he can get, and lays his arm over Bitty’s chest. He holds his hand, and talks to him softly when he whimpers. When the nurse finally gives Bitty another dose of medicine and he falls asleep, Jack still can’t let go of his hand. 

“Hey, bro.”

Jack blinks up at Shitty, who is standing next to him, looking concerned. It takes him only seconds to remember where he is, and his eyes immediately go to Bitty. He’s fast asleep, long lashes quiet against his cheeks. He realizes that he must have fallen asleep too, and breathes a sigh of relief. 

The sunshine coming through the curtains makes the whole scene a little less horrible, Jack thinks. As does the fact that his best friend is holding a cup of coffee out to him.

“Shitty.” Jack tries to sit up from where he’s been slumped over Bitty’s bed, and he groans. 

“You’re gonna be feeling that today,” Shitty says, as he hands him the coffee. “Not as much as Bits, though, huh.”

Lardo gives Shitty a shove and a pointed look.

“Sorry,” Shitty says. “Why don’t you go get some breakfast, stretch your legs? The cafeteria downstairs isn’t bad. We’ll sit with him for a while.”

Jack untwines his fingers from Bitty’s, watching his face carefully. Aside from his quiet breathing, Bitty doesn’t move an inch.

“We’ll be here, bro. Don’t worry.”

Jack nods and stands up, his back twinging. He’s reluctant to leave, even for a minute, but he really does need to use the bathroom. 

It doesn’t take him long to wash up and grab an egg sandwich from the cafeteria, which he finishes in the elevator on his way back up to Bitty’s room. When he returns, Doctor Harris is there, and she turns and smiles at Jack.

“Good morning, Jack. We were just talking about having Eric here for a little while more. Just to keep an eye on him.”

Bitty looks up at Jack, frowning. He’s clearly not happy about this development. Jack moves closer, and Lardo steps away so he can take Bitty’s hand.

“But you said it’s just a concussion,” Bitty says, a tired whine in his voice. “We know the drill. And I’d be much more comfortable in a real bed.” He looks up at Jack. “Please, Jack.”

“Bitty…” If the doctor thinks Bitty needs to stay, there’s no way Jack is taking him home. But he can’t stand to disappoint him.

“Bits, your health is more important than getting home to your cozy bed,” Lardo says firmly. “If the doctor says you stay, you stay.”

Jack shoots Lardo a grateful look, and Bitty sighs. “Fine. But y’all better find me something better to eat than jello. I have standards.”

As the day progresses, it becomes clear that Bitty probably is well enough to go home. He’s restless and bored, and turns away the nurse’s offer of more serious pain meds. “They make me woozy,” he protests. 

Jack hopes Bitty isn’t thinking about him and his history with pills. “Bits, you know it’s okay to take the meds if you’re hurting,” he says to him quietly. Shitty and Lardo have left to scrounge better food for lunch, so they have the room to themselves.

But Bitty just makes a face at him. “I’m fine. Give me some Tylenol and get me out of this place.”

When Shitty returns, explaining that Lardo has gone home to get them all a change of clothes, Jack goes to find a nurse and see if they can get Bitty discharged today after all. She agrees to send one of the doctors in when they are free, but doesn’t make any promises.

As Jack approaches the room, he can hear Bitty, still complaining. “It’s just a concussion, it’s not like I haven’t had one before. Jack won’t even let me go down to the cafeteria. He’s treating me like a child.”

“Bits, come on,” Shitty says. “Cut him a break. Jack’s holding it together for you, but you might want to ease up.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bitty asks, irritated. “I’m the one in the hospital bed.”

Jack wants to move, to stop Shitty from saying anything else, but he’s frozen outside the doorway.

“When you fell, and Jack saw you lying there at the bottom of the stairs? Not moving? Just lying there, eyes closed, not responding when we talked to you? Bro, I’ve never seen Jack so fucking terrified.”

The room is silent. Jack finally forces his muscles to move, and steps inside.

Bitty’s eyes meet his, and the expression on his face is devastating. He’s sitting up in the bed, but his shoulders are curled in, and he looks like he’s about to cry.

Jack’s eyes don’t leave Bitty’s, but he can’t do this with an audience. “Shitty, can you give us a minute?”

Shitty nods and leaves the room, patting Jack on the shoulder as he goes.

“Jack…” Bitty says, blinking hard, and Jack is there, wrapping his arms around him. He’s trying not to squeeze too tightly, aware of the bruises on Bitty’s shoulder and arm, but Bitty seems unconcerned, holding on to Jack as if his life depends on it.

“It’s okay, Bitty.”

“What Shitty said… I didn’t even think…”

Jack closes his eyes, focuses on the feel of Bitty in his arms, warm and safe and breathing. The worst didn’t happen. Bitty is fine, he’s going to be fine. He’s not dead, he’s not broken, he’s fine. Keep breathing, he tells himself again for what must be the hundredth time in the past twenty-four hours, trying not to recall the image Shitty has so deftly dragged right back up out of his memory. “It’s all right,” he stutters out. “You’re okay now. It’s okay.” 

“You must have been so scared,” Bitty says softly, threading his hand into Jack’s hair.

“I was.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Jack shakes his head, then stops, not wanting to jostle Bitty. “No, that’s not right. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was my fault I didn’t think about how you would feel.”

Jack huffs, almost managing a laugh. “Well, you did just get concussed.”

Bitty laughs then, bright and sharp, and Jack pulls back to see a tentative smile on his face. “I suppose you have a point there, mister.” Bitty sighs and leans his head against Jack’s shoulder. “Can you please take me home now? I really don’t like this place.”

Through the combined efforts of Shitty’s reasonable lawyer-talk and Jack’s polite pleading, they finally get the attention of the doctor on call, who agrees to let Bitty go home. It’s late by the time they get back to the lake house, and Bitty is clearly exhausted, so they tuck him into bed right away.

Jack changes into his pajamas and climbs into bed too, despite the looks Shitty and Lardo are giving him.

“What? It’s been a long day.”

A few minutes later Lardo’s got on the Harvard law t-shirt she always sleeps in, and Shitty’s shed all but his boxers, and they join Jack and Bitty in the bed. 

“This is a little ridiculous,” Bitty mumbles. He’s curled up along Jack’s side, Lardo lying along his back, her phone up in the air as she scrolls through her favorite blogs. “It’s too early for y’all to go to sleep.”

“Nah, it’s all good, bro.” Shitty’s got some kind of history program playing on his laptop, braced against his knees so that he and Jack can both watch. “Jack doesn’t need the volume on this show, anyway. He’s seen it a million times.”

“What about you?” Bitty asks.

Shitty shrugs. “Jack will tell me if anything interesting happens. Don’t sweat it.”

Jack knows Shitty’s here as much for him as for Bitty, and he’s grateful for it. “It’s all right, Bits, Shitty can entertain himself.” He realizes how that sounds as soon the words come out of his mouth, and Bitty does too, letting out a soft laugh.

“He better not. I need my rest,” Bitty says, a yawn underscoring his point. 

“And you shall have it,” Shitty says, leaning over Jack to give Bitty a kiss on the forehead. “Go to sleep. We’ve got your back.”


	13. Chapter 13

(Prompt: Author's choice)

“That was delicious, Jack. Thank you.” Bitty pops the last bite of the ham and cheese omelet into his mouth, and takes a final sip of his coffee. “Now I think I’m going out. Want to join me?” 

Jack freezes with a glass of orange juice in his hand. “What?”

It’s been two long, boring days of enforced mostly-bed-rest since Bitty’s tumble down the stairs, and Bitty’s had enough. Shitty and Lardo went home yesterday, and there is only so much Netflix a boy can watch, even with his handsome beau waiting on him hand and foot.

“It’s a gorgeous day outside – probably one of the last ones we’ll get, before all the leaves drop off the trees and the snow starts coming down. And we only have a few more days before we go back to Providence. I’m going for a walk.”

Bitty slides off the stool, stretches, and heads towards the hall closet, Jack close behind him.

“Bitty, I don’t think it’s a good idea…”

“Jack, for goodness’ sake,” Bitty says, trying not to let his exasperation show. He sits down on the bench by the door and puts on his sneakers. “It’s just a walk. I promise not to skydive until at least tomorrow.” Bitty stands up, shrugs on his down vest, and smiles at Jack. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Jack’s got on his best worried face. “Not funny.”

Bitty had told himself he wouldn’t negotiate, that Jack is being overprotective and unreasonable, but he can’t stand making Jack look that way.

“Sweetheart.” Bitty puts a hand on Jack’s chest, and looks up into his blue eyes. “I’m fine. You know I am. Let’s go take a romantic walk in the woods.”

Jack seems to study him for a long moment, then relents. “Okay. But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Like I would actually go skydiving.”

“You told Lardo you’d go on that zipline thing with her,” Jack grumbles, shoving his feet into his shoes and pulling on his jacket.

“Next fall, Jack, not today!” 

The sun is shining brightly, making the woods look like they are on fire, crimson and gold all around them. There is a path that starts behind the house and leads up a small rise, and when Bitty starts to follow the fork which curves back towards the lake, Jack stops him with a hand on his arm.

“What? That’s the way we went last time, the view is so pretty from over there.”

Jack bites his lip. “Let’s take the other path.”

The other is possibly a fraction less steep. “Why?”

Jack looks pained. “Because… we haven’t tried that one yet.”

This is abundantly untrue, but Bitty doesn’t see the need to argue about it. Maybe Jack really thinks that the additional few degrees of incline will burst his head open, or there’s a nest of killer bees on the steeper path, or a hidden ice rink which might tempt him into dangerous sportsing. He can give Jack this one.

They proceed up the hill, through an area with dense tree cover and deep piles of leaves, and finally out where they can see the lake again. There’s a stony outcrop, and Bitty scrambles up, finding a spot to sit where it isn’t too uncomfortable. Jack follows him quickly, sitting close and winding his arm around Bitty’s waist in a manner that feels more like seat belt than seductive.

“This really is a beautiful sight,” Bitty says, gazing out over the lake, which is shining in the strong autumn sunlight.

He glances over at Jack, certain that he will reply with a cheesy “yes it is,” aimed in Bitty’s direction, but it doesn’t happen. Jack just looks nervous.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Jack blinks and turns to Bitty, squinting a little. He had forgotten his sunglasses in his rush to make sure Bitty didn’t trip on his way out the door.

“Um? Nothing much.”

Bitty lays his head on Jack’s shoulder. He’s actually got a bit of a headache now, and the pointy rock he’s sitting on is making his butt hurt, but he’s not about to admit either of these things to Jack. “You look worried.”

Jack purses his lips. “Shitty says I look worried most of the time.”

Bitty laughs softly, and puts a hand to Jack’s cheek. “You know he’s just chirping you.” Bitty runs his finger along Jack’s cheekbone, and Jack’s eyes flutter shut, his face relaxing at the touch.

“I love you, Bitty,” Jack whispers, barely louder than the rustle of the leaves around them.

“Love you too, Jack.”

For all that Bitty is the one with the concussion, Bitty thinks that Jack took the brunt of the fall.

*****

They spend the afternoon cooking – tomorrow is Halloween, and Bitty is determined to make some special treats. He doesn’t want to repeat any of the cookies and sweets he made for Shitty and Lardo’s party, but a thorough search of the internet has given him some ideas.

They make chocolate cake pops and dip them in white candy melt, then paint cute little ghost faces on them with icing. Bitty puts together a festive looking caramel peanut brittle, with candy corn and M&M’s to up their candy consumption. Then he gets out the marzipan, mixes some food coloring into it, and he and Jack entertain themselves by trying to make perfect little pumpkins. 

This quickly turns into a contest to see who can make the most creative Halloween sculptures out of marzipan. Bitty shows his latest creation to Jack, who just scowls at it.

“A cat?”

“Nope.”

“A dog?”

“Nope.”

Jack raises an eyebrow at him. “Chowder trying to block a goal?”

Bitty laughs. “No. It’s a duckling. For Lardo.”

Jack shakes his head. “That looks nothing like a duckling.”

Bitty takes out his phone and snaps a picture. “It absolutely does.”

A few minutes later his phone beeps with a message. 

“Lardo can’t possibly think that looks like a duck,” Jack says, putting the finishing touch on what Bitty thinks is probably a skull. Or maybe a hamster.

Bitty shows Jack the text. It says “cute duck.” 

“Ha.” Bitty smirks up at Jack.

“Ha yourself.”

They’re too full of sugar to eat much for dinner. Bitty puts together a plate of carrot sticks and sliced peppers and they dip them in hummus as they watch television. Jack’s more absorbed in the book he’s reading than the baking show on tv, so Bitty presses a kiss to his head and goes upstairs to shower.

When Bitty finishes, he spends a few minutes in the kitchen to make sure all the treats are safely stored away for the night. He can’t help but chuckle at their cute little marzipan creations. 

He reaches up to put the mixer away in the pantry closet and when he turns around, Jack is right behind him. Jack quickly brings his eyes up to Bitty’s face, and doesn’t even blush.

“Caught you staring,” Bitty says, his voice low.

“Those red briefs, Bits…”

After his shower Bitty had pulled on a thin white t-shirt and, as it happens, a pair of red briefs. Rather tiny red briefs.

If challenged, he’d admit he might have had ulterior motives for the tight briefs. He hadn’t thought they would work quite this well, though.

Jack presses him against the counter, hands gripping his waist and mouth firm against his own, and Bitty lets out a long whine. It’s not like they’ve never gone four or five days without sex before, but something is making them both a little desperate right now.

Bitty gets his hand in Jack’s hair and pulls his head back. Jack’s pupils are blown.

“Bedroom,” Bitty says, stepping away from the counter and holding out his hand. “Right now.”

They are upstairs and naked in record time, Bitty’s skin still damp as Jack runs his hands up and down his body, touching him reverently. 

Bitty’s lying back against the pillows, and Jack is heading south, but Bitty isn’t done kissing him yet. He tugs Jack back up towards him and finds his mouth. Jack has one of his big hands under Bitty’s ass, holding him tight. They kiss and kiss, tongues and teeth and messy licks, both hungry for each other. Bitty wonders if Jack would devour him, if he could. He thinks he’d let him.

Jack’s knee is nudging against the outside of Bitty’s thigh, and Bitty shifts, trying to roll them over. Jack resists, keeping Bitty on his back, his arms bracketing Bitty’s head. Bitty goes with it for a few minutes, enjoying the attention Jack is paying to his neck and how easily he can get to Jack’s ass in this position, but he really wants to give Jack’s knee a break.

Bitty tries again to roll them, distracting Jack first with a few teasing strokes to his cock that have him moaning softly, and then pushing at Jack’s shoulder. Jack almost moves to his side, but then rocks back, and Bitty’s still underneath him.

“Jack?”

“Mmm?” 

“Hey, Jack… stop for a minute?”

Jack freezes, his hands flying away from Bitty’s skin like it’s on fire. “Bitty? Are you okay?”

“Shh, honey, I’m fine.” Bitty reaches to switch on the bedside lamp, then turns back to Jack. “What was going on there?”

A guilty look washes over Jack’s face, and Bitty puts a reassuring hand on Jack’s chest. “Hey. It’s okay. Just tell me.”

Jack sighs and flops on to his back. Finally, Bitty thinks, snuggling into his accustomed place on Jack’s chest. His nether region is still demanding attention, but Bitty just wriggles against Jack’s thigh and tells himself firmly to behave; it’s likely that they will return to previously scheduled activities in a moment.

Jack’s arm comes up around Bitty’s back and he threads his fingers into his hair. Bitty presses a kiss to the bottom of Jack’s chin. He’s pretty sure this is his favorite place in the world. He breathes deep, and waits.

Finally, Jack speaks. “I didn’t want you to hurt yourself,” he says softly. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“So you thought a wrestling match would help?” Bitty asks, cupping his hand to Jack’s cheek. “Besides, I don’t want you to hurt yourself either.”

Jack tries to cover his face with his free hand, but Bitty grabs it and kisses his knuckles. “Don’t tell me it doesn’t hurt your knee sometimes when we’re messing around,” Bitty says. “I know it does. I’ve seen you sneak off to ice it afterwards.”

Jack’s got his eyes squeezed tightly together, and Bitty can feel his chest hitch underneath him. “Sweetheart, it doesn’t matter. Whether you’re a little banged up doesn’t change the way I feel about you, Jack.”

“But it changes the way I feel about me,” Jack says, his voice small.

Bitty swallows hard around the lump in his throat. He knows that when Jack got hurt he felt like he had failed, that it was his fault he was injured and couldn’t play anymore, that he had disappointed everyone. But that was almost a year ago now. Bitty hadn’t realized it was still affecting him so deeply.

“Well, sweetheart, I can think of two things we can do.” Bitty threads his fingers through Jack’s hair. Jack is still, listening. “First, I think you should make an appointment with your therapist for when we get home. This kind of thinking isn’t good for you, and maybe she can help.”

Jack nods, his chin pressing into Bitty’s shoulder. “Okay.”

“And second, let’s see what we can do to get that knee to keep healing. You should go back to PT. Talk to your doctor. Maybe wear your knee brace more.”

Jack doesn’t respond to this.

“You could put the brace on tomorrow, in fact. I think it’s in the trunk of the car.” 

Jack shrugs. “I don’t like it.”

“You wore it all the time last season.”

“I’m not playing hockey anymore, so I don’t need it.”

Bitty isn’t buying that – clearly Jack’s knee has been bothering him, so he does need it. Maybe not as much as when he was playing one of the world’s most physical sports, but it can only help to wear it more.

“Why don’t you like it? If it’s not comfortable, we’ll get it adjusted.”

“It’s fine.” 

“Jack?” Bitty prompts. “If it’s fine, then what’s the problem?”

“It’s just… it reminds me that something’s wrong.”

Ouch. “There’s no shame in having a bum knee, Jack.” Bitty scoots up and presses a soft kiss to Jack’s lips, then strokes a finger along his cheekbone. “You know that, right?”

Jack opens his eyes and gazes up at Bitty. “I’m working on it.”

“Okay.” That will have to be enough for now, Bitty thinks. They can talk more in the morning. Right now, he just wants that sad look off Jack’s face. He kisses Jack again, lightly, trying to judge whether Jack is interested in continuing or just needs to be cuddled. Jack doesn’t respond much at first, but when Bitty starts to pull away Jack wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him close.

They’re calmer now than when they first got into bed, but after a few more minutes of kissing, soft at first and then with more intent, things heat up. Bitty slides on top of Jack, wanting more contact. Jack spreads his legs to welcome him, a hand going to Bitty’s ass to press them together right where they want it. It feels so good, it always feels so good with Jack. Bitty kisses down Jack’s chest, tongue circling a nipple while he flicks the other one with his fingertips, until Jack is squirming with pleasure underneath him.

Bitty pauses to find the lube where they’ve stashed it under the pillows, and then returns his attention to Jack. The light is still on, and he takes a moment to admire this gorgeous man, laid out and waiting just for him. Sometimes he still can’t believe this is his life.

Then he lubes up his hand and reaches down between them, wrapping his hand around Jack’s cock. Jack takes a sharp breath in, and then does the same to his, and Bitty can’t help but praise him. “Oh, baby, yes. That feels so good.” Bitty grins down at Jack, leaning in to kiss his lips, his cheek, his jaw. He lets his lips drag down, sucking on the thin skin above Jack’s collarbone.

Jack’s free hand is roaming up and down Bitty’s body, from his ass up over his back and down again. Bitty feels like Jack is touching him everywhere, they’re connected, moving together and breathing together and if he could, he’d melt right into him. Stay with him forever.

Jack’s babbling now, not really words so much as the string of sounds he makes when he’s turned on, soft moans and a trail of “oh’s” and it pushes Bitty closer to the edge. He loves it when Jack lets go.

Bitty rolls to his side and Jack follows, both of them concentrating on the other. Bitty tries to keep his hand moving on Jack as he feels himself get close, forehead resting against Jack’s chest and panting into his skin. Jack is relentless, stroking his cock with a rapid pace, and sliding a finger back between Bitty’s cheeks to press at his hole. It’s too much, too good, and then Bitty’s coming, pleasure coursing through him. Jack comes a moment afterwards, and he wraps his arm around Bitty and squeezes him tight as they both come down.

****  
When Bitty wakes up the next morning, he lets himself doze for a little while, warm and content under the blankets. He realizes at some point that he’s alone in the bed, and reaches for his phone. As expected, there’s a text from Jack saying he’ll be back soon.

Probably taking more pictures, Bitty thinks, and rolls back over, eyes closing as he drifts off again.

The next time he opens his eyes, Jack is standing in the doorway of the bedroom, a tray in his hands. He’s wearing a soft gray henley and jeans, and it doesn’t look like he’s been outside.

Jack smiles shyly at Bitty and puts the tray down on the bed. There are two cups of coffee, two glasses of orange juice, and a plate of waffles. On the top waffle, tiny marzipan pumpkins form the shape of a heart.

“Oh, honey, this is lovely.” Bitty sits up and pats the spot next to him. “Come sit with me.”

But Jack remains standing. He looks almost lost for a minute, then suddenly drops to one knee (the good one, Bitty thinks, thank goodness, or that really would have hurt). Then a part of his brain realizes what is happening, and all thoughts of Jack’s hurt knee are banished.

“Bitty… Eric…”

“Oh my goodness, Jack, what are you-”

“Bitty, we’ve been just assuming, just going along, taking it for granted that we’re going to get married. But getting married to you means everything to me, Bitty. It’s not just the next step in the game. I don’t want to take it for granted.” Jack pauses, wipes his palms on his jeans, and pulls something out of his pocket. 

“Jack, is that-”

Jack holds the box out to Bitty. “We don’t know how long we get to spend together in this life, not really, but I want you to know I intend to spend forever with you. I want to make it official.”

Bitty reaches for Jack and he gets up off the floor and sits on the bed. “I know it’s weird to propose on Halloween, but life will never be as scary if I can share it with you. Eric Bittle, will you marry me?”

Bitty is in Jack’s lap, hands around his neck and kissing him soundly, before he even thinks about it. But Jack pulls back, eyes wide and nervous. “Is that a yes?”

“You fool,” Bitty says fondly, “of course it’s a yes.” He gives Jack another smacking kiss, then sees the box Jack is still holding. “Did you… did you really buy…?”

They haven’t talked about rings. Bitty wasn’t sure it was something Jack would be into, given how private he could be. And Shitty had lectured them more than once about the problematic nature of jewelry that signified ownership, engagement rings in particular.

Bitty takes the box, his hands shaking. Jack wraps an arm around his waist, holding him close.

“Go ahead. Open it.”

Bitty glances up at Jack, who is beaming at him. “I’m getting there, darlin’. Give a boy a break – I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack says, blushing. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“I think I can forgive you.” Bitty takes a deep breath, and opens the box. Inside are two simple bands – platinum, Bitty guesses – one slightly larger than the other.

“One for each of us?” Bitty asks, taking the larger one out of the box. Apparently Jack was listening to Shitty, too.

“Mm-hm. But that one’s-”

“Too big for me, I know.” Bitty smiles up at Jack. “Give me your hand.” Jack holds out his left hand, and Bitty slides the ring onto his ring finger. Jack takes the other ring and does the same for Bitty.

“Now we’re official,” Bitty says.

“We are.” Jack grins and leans in, pressing kisses all over Bitty’s face.

“Hey, careful, you’ll knock over the coffees,” Bitty protests, waving at the breakfast tray on the bed behind him.

“You love your coffee more than me,” Jack teases, and Bitty gives him a shove to the arm.

“I do not. There is nothing in this world I love more than you, Jack Zimmerman.” Bitty had started out the sentence lightly, but when Jack’s eyes meet his, he knows Jack understands.

“I never thought I could love someone like this, Bits,” Jack says in a hushed voice. 

Bitty takes in the sight before him – the man of his dreams, his husband to be, his fiancé. There’s so much love in his eyes, it’s almost overwhelming. “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”

Bitty lets go of Jack for long enough to set the breakfast tray on the floor, and then turns back to Jack. “Remember what we did when you asked me to be your boyfriend?”

Jack’s face goes blank for a minute, and then he answers. “Practiced your French flash cards.”

“No, you fool, after that,” Bitty says with a wink.

Jack’s face colors, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, clearly remembering their extended sexytimes session that day.

Bitty feels his heart speed up, and he opens his arms to Jack, who comes willingly. “I think that would be an appropriate way to celebrate this milestone, too.”

“If you insist,” Jack murmurs against Bitty’s neck. They wrap themselves around each other, warm and safe and loved. They belong together, Bitty thinks to himself. They don’t need rings to prove it, but he takes Jack’s hand and kisses the ring there anyway, loving the way Jack giggles in response. 

“We’re gonna get married,” Bitty says, suddenly excited about it all over again, and Jack kisses his nose and smiles widely.

“We’re gonna get married,” Jack agrees. 

They kiss some more, lazy and slow. Jack is right about many things, but especially what he said this morning - life is a lot less scary with your love by your side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's 13 days of Halloween! Thanks to everyone for reading along and leaving such lovely comments - and if you haven't commented yet please do let me know if you enjoyed the story, it means so much to me to hear from you. Happy Halloween!

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the Dusty Springfield song.
> 
> There will be thirteen chapters, each part of the same story, and responsive (more or less tenuously) to the prompt for the day. Please let me know if you are enjoying this - your comments mean the world to me!


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